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THROUGH  ONE  ADMINISTRATION 


BY 


FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT 

Author  of  "That  Lass  o'  Lowrie's,"  "  HaicorWst"  "Louisiana,"  "A  Fair 
£arbarian,"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1881  and  1883, 
FRANCES  HODGSON  BURNETT, 


All  rights  reserved. 


t-fcr 


THKOUGH  ONE  ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EIGHT  years  before  the  Administration  rendered  im« 
portant  by  the  series  of  events  and  incidents  which 
form  the  present  story,  there  had  come  to  Washington, 
on  a  farewell  visit  to  a  distant  relative  with  whom  he 
was  rather  a  favorite,  a  young  officer  who  was  on  the 
point  of  leaving  the  civilized  world  for  a  far-away 
Western  military  station.  The  name  of  the  young  offi- 
cer was  Philip  Tredennis.  His  relative  and  entertainer 
was  a  certain  well-known  entomologist,  whom  it  will  be 
safe  to  call  Professor  Herrick.  At  the  Smithsonian  and 
in  all  scientific  circles,  Professor  Herrick's  name  was  a 
familiar  one.  He  was  considered  an  enviable  as  well  as 
an  able  man.  He  had  established  himself  in  Washington 
because  he  found  men  there  whose  tastes  and  pursuits 
were  congenial  with  his  own,  and  because  the  softness 
of  the  climate  suited  him ;  he  was  rich  enough  to  be 
free  from  all  anxiety  and  to  enjoy  the  delightful  liberty 
of  pursuing  his  scientific  labors  because  they  were  his 
pleasure,  and  not  because  he  was  dependent  upon  their 
results.  He  had  a  quiet  and  charming  home,  an  ex- 
cellent matter-of-fact  wife,  and  one  daughter,  who  was 
being  educated  in  a  northern  city,  and  who  was  said  to 
be  as  bright  and  attractive  as  one  could  wish  a  young 
creature  to  be. 

Of  this  daughter  Tredennis  had  known  very  little, 
except  that  she  enjoyed  an  existence  and  came  home  at 
long  intervals  for  the  holidays,  when  it  did  not  happen 


2  THl.OUQH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION . 

that  she  was  sent  to  the  sea  or  the  mountains  with  Lei 
mother  instead. 

The  professor  himself  seemed  to  know  but  little  o 
her.  He  was  a  quiet  and  intense *y  studious  person, 
taking  small  interest  in  the  ordinary  world  and  appear- 
ing always  slightly  surprised  when  his  wife  spoke  to 
him ;  still,  his  manner  toward  her  was  as  gentle  and 
painstaking  as  if  she  had  been  the  rarest  possible  beetle, 
and  the  only  one  of  her  species  to  be  found  in  any 
known  collection,  though  perhaps  the  interest  she 
awakened  in  him  was  not  so  great  as  it  might  have 
been  under  such  exceptionally  favorable  circumstances. 
She  was  not  a  brilliant  or  far-seeing  woman,  and  her 
opinions  of  entomology  and,  indeed,  of  science  in 
general,  were  vague,  and  obscured  by  objections  to 
small  boxes,  glass  cases,  long  pins,  and  chloroform, 
and  specimens  of  all  orders. 

So,  observing  this,  Tredennis  felt  it  not  at  all  un- 
natural that  he  should  not  hear  much  of  his  daughter 
from  the  professor.  Why  his  relative  liked  him  the 
young  man  was  not  at  all  sure,  though  at  times  he  had 
felt  the  only  solution  of  the  mystery  to  be  that  he  liked 
him  because  his  tendency  was  toward  silence  and  books 
and  research  of  all  kinds.  He  thought  he  was  certain 
that  the  professor  did  like  him.  He  had  invited  him  to 
visit  him  in  Washington,  and  had  taken  him  to  the 
Smithsonian,  and  rambled  from  room  to  room  with  him, 
bestowing  upon  him  tomes  of  information  in  the  simplest 
and  most  natural  manner ;  filled  with  the  quietest  inter- 
est himself  and  entirely  prepared  to  find  his  feeling 
shared  by  his  charge.  He  had  given  into  his  hands 
Ihe  most  treasured  volumes  in  his  library,  and  had  even 
seemed  pleased  to  have  him  seated  near  him  when  he 
sat  at  work.  At  all  events,  it  was  an  established  fact 
that  a  friendly  feeling  existed  between  them,  and  that 
if  it  had  been  his  habit  to  refer  to  his  daughter,  he 
would  have  spoken  of  her  to  Tredennis.  But  Tredennis 
heard  nothing  of  her  until  he  had  been  some  days  in 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  3 

> Washington,  and  then  it  was  Mrs.  Herrick  who  spoke 
of  her. 

"  Nathan,"  she  said  one  evening  at  dinner,  "  Bertha 
will  be  home  on  Tuesday." 

The  professor  laid  his  spoon  down  as  if  he  had  rathct 
unexpectedly  discovered  that  he  had  had  enough  soup. 

"  Bertha,"  he  said.  "  Indeed  !  Next  Tuesday.  Well, 
of  course,  we  must  be  ready  for  her.  Do  you  want  any 
money,  my  dear?  But,  of  course,  you  will  want  money 
when  she  comes,  if  she  has  finished  school,  as  I  think 
you  said  she  had." 

"  I  shall  want  money  to  pay  her  bills,"  answered  Mrs. 
Herrick.  "  She  will  bring  them  with  her.  Her  aunt 
has  had  her  things  made  in  New  York." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  professor,  "  I  dare  say  they  will  be 
more  satisfactory.  What  kind  of  things,  for  instance, 
Catherine?" 

"  Dresses,"  replied  Mrs.  Herrick,  "  and  things  of  that 
sort.  You  know  she  is  to  come  out  this  season." 

"To  come  out,"  remarked  the  professor,  carefully 
giving  the  matter  his  undivided  attention.  "  I  hope  she 
will  enjoy  it.  What  sort  of  a  ceremony  is  it?  And 
after  a  young  person  has  '  come  out '  does  she  ever  go 
in,  and  is  there  any  particular  pageant  attached  to  such 
a —  a  contingency  ?  " 

w  When  she  comes  out,"  answered  Mrs.  Herrick,  tak- 
ing a  purely  practical  view  of  the  affair,  "  she  begins  to 
go  to  parties,  to  balls,  and  receptions,  and  lunches ; 
which  she  does  not  do  when  she  is  going  to  schools.  It 
isn't  considered  proper,  and  it  wouldn't  give  her  any 
time  for  her  studies.  Bertha  hasn't  been  allowed  to  go 
out  at  all.  Her  aunt  Maria  has  been  very  particular 
about  it,  and  she  will  enjoy  things  all  the  more  because 
they  are  quite  new  to  her.  I  dare  say  she  will  be  very 
gay  this  winter.  Washington  is  a  very  good  place  for  a 
girl  to  come  out  in." 

After  dinner,  when  they  retired  to  the  library  to- 
gether, it  occurred  to  Tredennis  that  the  profetjor  waa 


4  THROUGH    ONE    ADM/NISTK 1TION. 

bestowing  some  thought  upon  his  paternal  position,  and 
his  first  observation  proved  that  this  was  the  case. 

"  It  is  a  most  wonderful  thing  that  a  few  brief  yeara 
should  make  such  changes,"  he  said.  "  It  seems  impos- 
sible that  so  short  a  time  should  change  a  small  and 
exceedingly  red  infant  into  a  young  person  returned 
from  school  in  the  most  complete  condition,  and  readj 
to  'come  out.'  She  was  not  interesting  as  an  infant.  1 
tried  to  find  her  so,  but  failed,  though  it  was  insisted 
that  she  was  an  unusually  intelligent  baby,  and  I  have 
not  seen  much  of  her  of  late  years.  When  she  wa& 
growing  it  was  thought  that  the  climate  of  Washington 
was  not  good  for  her.  I  am  really  a  little  curious  about 
her.  My  views  of  girls  are  extremely  undefined.  I 
have  always  been  a  bookworm.  I  have  not  known  girls. 
They  have  not  come  within  my  radius.  I  remember  one 
I  once  knew  years  ago,  but  that  is  all.  It  was  when  I 
was  a  younger  man.  I  think  she  was  a  year  or  so  older 
than  Bertha.  She  was  very  interesting  —  as  a  study. 
She  used  to  bewilder  me." 

He  walked  over  to  the  table,  and  began  to  turn  over 
some  papers. 

"  She  had  gray  eyes,"  he  said,  in  a  rather  lower  voice, 
—  "gray  eyes." 

He  was  so  quiet  for  some  time  that  Tredennis  thought 
he  had  forgotten  what  he  had  been  talking  about ;  but, 
after  a  pause  of  at  least  three  minutes,  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  would  not  be  at  all  sorry,"  he  said,  "  if  Bertha  was 
a  little  like  her.  I  suppose,"  he  added,  —  referring  seri- 
ously to  Tredennis,  —  "I  suppose  they  are  all  "more  or 
less  alike." 

"I  think" —  faltered  Tredennis,  "perhaps  so." 

He  did  not  feel  himself  an  authority.  The  professor 
stood  still  a  moment,  regarding  the  fire  abstractly. 

"  She  had  gray  eyes,"  he  said  again,  —  "  gray  eyes  ! " 
and  immediately  afterward  returned  to  his  table,  seated 
himself,  and  fell  to  work. 

The  next  week  Bertha  arrived,  and  to  her  dist&ut 


THKOUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  3 

relative  hei  arrival  was  a  revelation.  She  descended 
upon  the  quiet  household  —  with  her  trunks,  her  delight 
in  their  contents,  her  anticipation  of  her  first  season, 
her  fiesh  and  rather  surprised  exultation  in  her  own 
small  powers  and  charms,  which  were  just  revealing 
themselves  to  her  —  like  a  young  whirlwind.  Her 
mother  awakened  to  a  most  maternal  interest  in  the  gayc- 
ties  into  which  she  was  to  be  drawn ;  the  very  servants 
vrere  absorbed  in  the  all-pervading  excitement,  which  at 
length  penetrated  to  the  professor's  study  itself,  and 
aroused  him  from  his  entomological  reveries. 

After  she  had  been  in  the  house  a  week,  he  began  to 
examine  the  girl  through  his  spectacles  with  great  care 
and  deliberation,  and,  having  cheerfully  submitted  to  this 
inspection  through  several  meals,  one  day  at  dinner  its 
object  expressed  herself  with  charming  directness  con- 
cerning it. 

"I  do  hope  you'll  like  me,  papa,"  she  said,  "when  you 
have  classified  me." 

"  Classified  you  !  "  said  the  professor,  in  some  bewil- 
derment. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bertha.  "You  know  I  always  feel 
as  if  you  might  turn  me  over  gently  with  your  finger  at 
any  moment,  and  watch  me  carefully  while  I  struggled 
until  you  knew  all  about  me,  and  then  chloroform  me 
and  stick  a  pin  through  me  with  a  label  on  it.  I 
shouldn't  like  the  chloroform  and  the  pin,  but  I  should 
take  an  interest  in  the  label.  Couldn't  I  have  the  label 
without  the  pin,  papa?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  professor,  examining  her 
more  carefully  than  ever.  "  I  am  afraid  not." 

After  that  it  became  his  custom  to  encourage  her  to 
reveal  herself  in  conversation,  which  it  was  very  easy  to 
do,  as  she  was  a  recklessly  candid  young  person,  grveri 
to  the  most  delightfully  illogical  partisanship,  an  endless 
variety  of  romantic  fancies,  and  a  vivid  representation 
of  all  facts  in  which  she  felt  interest.  It  must  be  con 
fessed  that,  for  the  sake  of  hearing  her  talk,  the  pro- 


6  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

fesssor  somewhat  neglected,  for  the  time  being,  both 
Coleoptera  and  Lepidoptera,  and,  drifting  into  the  sik 
ting-room  upon  many  sunny  mornings,  allowed  himself 
to  be  surrounded  by  innocent  frivolities  in  the  way  oi 
personal  adornments.  And  it  must  also  be  added  that 
he  fell  into  the  habit  of  talking  of  the  girl  to  Tredennis, 
as  they  sat  together  by  the  study  fire  at  night. 

"  She  is  an  attractive  girl,"  he  said  once,  seriously. 
w  I  find  myself  quite  absorbed  in  her  at  times.  She  is 
chaotic,  illogical,  unpractical  —  oftener  than  not  she 
does  not  know  anything  of  what  she  is  talking  about, 
but  her  very  absurdities  have  a  kind  of  cleverness  in 
them.  And  wit  —  there  is  wit  in  her  nonsense,  though 
she  is  scarcely  conscious  of  it.  I  cannot  help  thinking 
of  her  future,  and  what  its  needs  will  develop  in  her. 
It  all  depends  upon  the  needs.  You  never  know  what 
will  be  developed,  but  you  know  it  depends  upon  the 
needs.'' 

"I  —  hope  there  will  be  no  painful  needs,"  said  Tre- 
dennis, looking  at  the  fire.  "She  is  very  happy.  I 
never  saw  any  one  so  happy." 

"  Yes,  she's  very  happy,"  admitted  the  professor.  "At 
present  she  is  not  much  more  than  a  joyous,  perfectly 
healthy  young  animal.  She  sings  and  laughs  because 
she  can't  help  it,  and  she  adorns  herself  from  instinct. 
She'll  be  different  in  a  year  or  two.  She'll  be  less 
happy,  but  more  interesting." 

"  More  interesting  I "  said  Tredennis,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes,  more  interesting,"  answered  the  professor, 
looking  at  the  fire  himself,  with  an  air  of  abstractedly 
following  a  train  of  thought.  "She  will  have  made 
discoveries  about  herself.  It  is  a  pity  she  can't  make 
them  without  being  less  happy  —  but  then,  none  of  us 
are  happy."  He  paused,  rubbed  his  forehead  a  second, 
and  then  turned  suddenly  on  Tredennis. 

"  Are  you  happy  ?  "  he  demanded. 

Tredennis  started  and  hesitated. 

*  Y-yes — n-no."  he  answered,  unsteadily.     He  would 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  7 

have  said  yes  unreservedly  a  short  time  ago  ;  but  within 
the  last  few  days  he  had  been  less  sure  of  himself,  and 
now,  being  confronted  with  the  question  unexpectedly » 
he  found  that  he  must  answer  with  a  reservation — though 
he  could  not  at  all  have  given  a  reason  for  the  feeling 
that  he  must  do  so. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  my  way  to  look  at  life  brightly/ 
he  added. 

"It  is  her  way,"  said  the  professor.  "She  believea 
in  everything  in  a  persistent,  childish  fashion  that  is 
touching  to  older  persons  like  myself.  If  you  contest 
her  points  of  belief  with  her  she  is  simply  obstinate. 
You  can't  move  her." 

"  Why  should  any  one  try  ?  "  said  Tredennis,  warmly. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  try,"  responded  the  professor. 
"  She  will  find  out  for  herself." 

"  Why  should  she  ?  "  said  Tredennis,  warmer  still.  "I 
hope  she  won't." 

The  professor  took  off  his  spectacles  and  began  to 
polish  them  carefully  with  a  corner  of  his  large  white 
handkerchief. 

"  She  is  going  to  be  a  clever  woman,"  he  said.  "  For 
her  sake  I  am  sorry  to  see  it.  She  is  going  to  be  the 
kind  of  clever  woman  who  has  nine  chances  out  of  ten 
of  being  a  desperate  pain  to  herself  while  she  is  a  pleas- 
ure to  her  friends.  She  hasn't  the  nature  to  find  safety 
in  cleverness.  She  has  a  conscience  and  emotions,  and 
they  will  go  against  her." 

"Against  her?"  cried  Tredennis. 

"  She  will  make  mi-takes  and  suffer  for  them  —  instead 
of  letting  others  suffer.  She  won't  be  a  saint,  but 
she  might  be  a  martyr.  It  always  struck  me  that  it 
took  faults  and  follies  to  make  a  martyr." 

He  bent  forward  and  poked  the  fire  as  carefully  as  he 
had  rubbed  his  spectacles ;  then  he  turned  to  Tredennis 
again  —  slowly  this  time,  instead  of  suddenly. 

w  You  resent  it  all,  I  suppose,"  he  said.  "Of  course 
you  do.  It  makes  you  angry,  I've  no  doubt.  It  would 


S  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

have  made  me  angry,  I  dare  say,  at  your  age,  to  heat 
an  elderly  scientist  dissect  a  pretty  young  creature  and 
take  the  bloom  off  her  life  for  her.  It's  natural.'' 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  of  her  as  —  as  being  anything 
but  happy  —  and  —  and  good,"  said  Tredennis,  with 
some  secret  resentment. 

"She'll  not  be  bad,"  said  the  professor,  critically. 
w  It  isn't  in  her.  She  might  be  happy,  perhaps —  if  one 
thing  happened  to  her." 

"What  one  thing?"  asked  Tredennis. 

"Tjfshe  married  a  fine  fellow,  whom  she  was  deeply 
and  passionately  in  love  with  —  which  happens  to  very 
few  women." 

In  the  shadow  of  his  corner  Tredennis  felt  the  hot 
blood  mount  steadily  to  his  forehead,  and  was  glad  of 
the  dim  light,  for  the  professor  was  still  regarding  him 
fixedly,  though  as  if  in  abstraction. 

"  She  will  be  —  likely  to  marry  the  man  she  loves, 
sir,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  neither  clear  nor  steady. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  professor ;  "unless  she  makes  the  mis- 
take of  merely  marrying  the  man  who  loves  her.  She 
will  meet  him  often  enough.  And,  if  he  chances  some 
day  to  be  a  fascinating  fellow,  her  fate  will  be  sealed. 
That  goes  along  with  the  rest  of  her  strengths  and 
weaknesses." 

And  he  gave  the  fire  a  vigorous  poke,  which  cast  a 
glow  of  light  upon  them  both ;  then,  leaving  his  chair, 
he  stood  for  a  moment  polishing  his  glasses,  —  staring 
absently  at  Tredennis  before  he  put  them  on,  —  and  wan- 
dered back  to  his  table  and  his  specimens. 

Tredennis'  own  acquaintance  with  his  young  relative 
was  not  a  very  intimate  one.  Too  many  interests  pre- 
sented themselves  on  every  side  to  allow  of  her  devot- 
ing herself  specially  to  any  one,  and  her  father's  favorite 
scarcely  took  the  form  of  an  interest.  She  had  not  the 
leisure  to  discover  that  he  was  fully  worth  the  discover- 
ing. She  regarded  him  simply  as  a  large  and  rathei 
ierious  young  man,  who,  without  seeming  stupid,  listened 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

rather  than  talked  ;  and  yet  was  not  actually  a  brilliant 
listener,  since  he  only  listened  with  an  air  of  observing 
quietly,  and  keeping  the  result  of  his  observations  to 
himself. 

ff  I  dare  say  it  will  suit  him  to  be  out  among  the  In- 
dians," she  said  to  her  mother  upon  one  occasion. 
MAnd  I  should  think  it  would  suit  the  Indians.  He 
won't  find  them  frivolous  and  given  up  to  vanity.  I  be- 
lieve he  thinks  I  am  frivolous.  It  struck  me  that  he 
did  the  other  day,  when  I  was  talking  about  that  new 
dress  being  made.  Do  you  think  I  talk  about  my 
clothes  too  much,  mamma?  Well,  at  all  events,"  with 
much  frankness,  "  I  don't  talk  about  them  half  as  much 
as  I  think  about  them.  I  am  always  thinking  about 
them  just  now.  It  seems  as  if  I  should  die  if  they 
weren't  becoming  after  they  were  made.  But  don't  you 
suppose  it's  natural,  mamma,  and  that  I  shall  get  over  it 
in  time  ?  " 

She  was  brushing  out  her  hair  before  the  glass,  and 
turned  round,  brush  in  hand,  with  an  expression  of 
rather  alarmed  interest,  and  repeated  the  question. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  shall  get  over  it?"  she  said.  "  It 
seems  just  now  as  if  everything  had  begun  all  at  once, 
and  anything  might  happen,  and  I  had  rather  lost  my 
breath  a  little  in  the  rush  of  it.  And  I  do  so  want  to 
have  a  good  time,  and  I  care  about  everything  connected 
with  it, — clothes,  and  people,  and  parties,  and  every- 
thing, —  but  I  don't  want  to  be  any  more  frivolous  than 
I  need  be,  — I  mean  I  don't  want  to  be  a  stupid." 

She  gave  the  pretty  red-brown  mane  embowering  her 
a  little  shake  back,  and  fixed  her  large,  clear  eyes  on  her 
mother's. 

"  I  suppose  all  girls  are  frivolous  just  at  first,"  she 
said.  "Dori'tyou?" 

"I  don't  call  it  frivolous,"  said  her  mother,  who  was 
a  simple,  excellent  creature,  not  troubled  with  intellect- 
ual pangs,  and  who,  while  she  admired  her,  frequently 
found  her  daughter  as  far  beyond  her  mild,  limited  com- 


10  THROUGH   ONE   ADMxNISTKATION. 

prehension  as  her  husband  was,  and  she  was  not  at  a  I 
disposed  to  complain  thereat,  either. 

The  one  fact  she  was  best  able  to  grasp  at  this  mo- 
ment was  that  the  girl  looked  her  best,  and  that  the 
circumstance  might  be  utilized  as  a  hint  for  the  future. 

"  That  way  of  wearing  your  hair  is  very  becoming  to 
you,  Bertha,"  she  said.  " I  wish  there  was  some  way 
of  managing  it  so  as  to  get  the  same  effect." 

"  But  I  can't  wear  it  down  after  I'm  '  out,' "  said  Ber- 
tha, reflectively.  "  I've  got  beyond  that  —  as  I  suppose 
I  shall  get  beyond  the  frivolity." 

And  she  turned  to  the  glass  and  looked  at  herself 
quite  simply,  and  with  a  soft  little  air  of  seriousness 
which  was  very  bewitching. 

She  regarded  herself  in  this  manner  for  several  sec- 
onds, and  then  began  slowly  to  dress  her  hair,  plaiting 
it  into  soft  thick  plaits,  which  she  fastened  closely  and 
simply  at  the  nape  of  her  pretty  neck. 

"I  believe  I'll  try  not  to  be  quite  so  frivolous,"  she 
said. 

Perhaps  she  was  making  an  effort  at  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  desirable  end  when  she  came  down  to  din- 
ner, an  hour  or  so  later.  Tredennis  thought  he  had 
never  seen  her  so  lovely. 

He  was  standing  alone  in  the  fire-light,  looking  doubt- 
fully at  something  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  she  entered 
so  quietly  that  he  started  on  becoming  conscious  of  her 
presence.  She  wore  a  dress  he  had  not  seen  before,  —  a 
pale  gray,  soft  in  material  and  very  simply  made,  with 
a  little  lace  kerchief  knotted  at  her  throat. 

She  came  forward,  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  back  of  a 
chair. 

"Papa  has  not  come  in  — ?"  she  began,  thea 
stopped  suddenly,  with  a  quick,  graceful  little  turn  of 
her  head. 

"  Oh,  where  is  the  heliotrope  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

For  the  room  was  full  of  the  subtle  fragrance  of  it. 

He  made  a  rather  headlong  step  forward. 


THROUGH    OKE    ADMINISTRATION.  1] 


*It  is  here,"  he  said.  "  I  ha\e  been  out,  and  I 
a  lot  of  it  in  a  florist's  window.  I  don't  know  whether 
it's  a  flower  to  wear  —  and  that  sort  of  thing  —  but  I 
always  liked  the  odor  of  it.  So  I  brought  this  home." 

And  he  held  it  out  to  her. 

She  took  it  and  buried  her  face  in  it  delightedly.  It 
was  a  sumptuous  handful,  and  had  been  cut  with  un- 
sparing lavishness.  He  had,  in  fact,  stood  by  and  seen 
it  done. 

"  Ah,  I  like  it  so  !  "  she  cried.  "  I  do  like  it  —  it's 
lovely." 

Then  she  lifted  her  face,  hesitating  a  second  as  a  new 
thought  occurred  to  her.  She  looked  up  at  him  with 
pretty  uncertainty,  the  color  rising  in  her  cheeks  simply 
because  she  was  uncertain. 

"  They  —  I  don't  know  "—  she  said.  "  You  didn't— 
they  are  not  for  "  — 

"  For  you,"  Tredennis  ended  for  her,  hurriedly. 
"  Yes.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  thought  of  you  when 
I  saw  them.  It's  an  idea,  I  suppose.  They  are  for  you, 
if  you'll  have  them." 

"  Ah  !  "  she  said,  "  it  was  so  kind  of  you  !  I'm  so  glad 
to  have  them.  I  have  always  liked  them." 

She  almost  hid  her  bright  face  in  them  again,  while  he 
stood  and  watched  her,  wondering  why  he  felt  suddenly 
tremulous  and  unreasonably  happy. 

At  last  she  looked  up  at  him  again. 

*  I  wish  this  was  my  f  coming-out'  night,"  she  said. 
WI  would  wear  these.  You  have  given  me  my  first 
bouquet.  I  am  glad  of  that." 

"  If  I  am  here  on  the  night  of  your  first  party,"  he 
answered,  "  I  will  give  you  another,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"  If  you  are  here  ?  "  she  said  "  Are  you  going 
away?" 

And  there  was  an  innocent,  unconsciously  expressed 
touch  of  disappointment  in  her  tone,  which  was  a  sharp 
pleasure  to  him,  though  he  was  in  too  chaotic  a  mental 
condition  to  call  it  either  pleasure  or  pain. 


13J  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"1  may  be  ordered  away  at  any  moment,"  he  said. 

He  could  never  exactly  remember  afterward  how  it 
came  about,  that  in  a  few  moments  more  he  was  sitting 
in  the  professor's  arm-chair,  and  she  had  taken  a  seat  OB 
a  hassock  near  him,  with  some  of  his  heliotrope  in  the 
knot  of  her  hair,  some  fastened  against  her  pale  gray 
dress,  and  some  loosely  clasped  in  the  hand  which  rested 
on  her  lap.  He  did  not  know  how  it  happened,  but 
she  was  there,  and  the  scent  of  the  heliotrope  floated 
about  her  in  the  warmth  of  the  fire,  and  she  was  talking 
in  the  bright,  fanciful  way  which  entertained  the  pro- 
fessor, and  he  knew  that  this  brief  moment  he  came  for 
the  first  time  within  the  charmed  circle  of  her  girlish 
life  and  pleasures,  and,  though  he  was  conscious  that  his 
nearness  moved  her  no  more  than  the  professor's  would 
have  done,  he  was  content. 

There  was  a  softness  in  her  manner  which  was  new  to 
him,  and  which  had  the  effect  of  giving  him  courage. 
It  was  a  result  partly  of  the  pleasure  he  had  given  her 
and  partly  of  the  goo"d  resolution  she  had  made,  of  which 
he  knew  nothing.  He  only  saw  the  result,  and  enjoyed 
it.  She  even  showed  a  pretty  interest  in  his  future. 

"  She  is  what  the  Italians  call  simpatica"  had  been 
one  of  her  father's  observations  concerning  her,  and 
Tredennis  thought  of  it  as  he  listened  and  watched  her. 

It  was  her  gift  to  say  well  all  she  had  to  say.  Her 
simplest  speech  produced  its  little  effect,  because  all  her 
heart  was  with  her  hearer.  Just  now  she  thought  only  of 
Tredennis,  and  that  she  wished  to  show  her  interest  in 
him. 

So  she  sat  with  her  flowers  upon  her  knee  and  talked, 
and  it  was  an  enchanted  hour  for  Tredennis,  who  felt 
like  a  creature  slowly  awakening  to  the  light  of  day. 

"I  suppose  we  may  not  see  you  again  for  several 
years,"  she  said.  "  I  do  not  like  to  think  of  that,  and 
I  am  sure  papa  won't,  but"  —  and  she  turned,  smiling 
into  his  eyes,  her  chin  resting  in  the  hollow  of  her  palm, 
her  elbow  on  her  knee  —  "when  we  do  see  you,  of 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  13 

course  you  will  be  a  most  distinguished  person,  entirety 
covered  with  stars  and  ribbons  and  —  scalps  I " 

"And  you,"  he  said  ;  "I  wonder  what  will  have  hap- 
pened to  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  a  great  many  things,  of  course,"  she  answered  ; 
"but  only  the  unimportant  things  that  happen  to  all 
girls  —  though  they  will  be  important  enough  to  me. 
I  dare  say  I  shall  have  had  a  lovely  time,  and  have 
been  very  happy." 

And  she  turned  her  little  smile  upon  the  fire  and 
brooded  for  a  few  seconds  —  still  in  her  pretty  attitude. 

It  was  such  a  pretty  attitude  and  her  look  was  so 
sweet  that  both  together  wrought  upon  Tredennis 
strongly,  and  he  felt  himself  awakening  a  little  more. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  breaking  the  brief  silence  in  a  low 
voice,  — "I  wish  that  /could  insure  the — happiness  for 
you." 

She  turned,  with  a  slignt  start,  and  some  vague 
trouble  in  her  face. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  said,  "  don't  you  think  I  shall  be  sure  to 
be  happy  ?  There  seems  to  be  no  reason  why  I  should 
not.  Oh,  I  hope  I  shall  be  happy ;  I  —  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do  if  I  wasn't  happy  I  I  can't  imagine  it." 

"  Everybody  is  not  happy,"  he  said,  his  voice  almost 
tremulous. 

"But,"  she  faltered,  "but  I  —  I  have  always  been 
happy" —  She  stopped,  her  eyes  appealing  to  him 
piteously.  "I  suppose,  after  all,  that  is  a  poor  reason," 
she  added ;  "  but  it  almost  seems  like  one." 

"  I  wish  it  were  one  !  "  he  said.  "  Don't  look  like  that. 
It  —  it  hurts  me.  If  any  sacrifice  of  mine  —  any  suffer- 


ing 


She  stirred  a  little,  moved  in  some  vague  way  by  the 
intensity  of  his  tone,  and  as  she  did  so  the  odor  of  the 
heliotrope  floated  toward  him. 

"  Bertha ! "  —  he  said,  "  Bertha  "— 

He  did  not  know  what  he  would  have  said  —  and  th« 
words  were  never  spoken  —  for  at  that  moment  the  en- 


14  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

chanted  hour  was  ended.  It  was  the  professor  himself 
who  broke  in  upon  it  —  the  professor -who  opened  th« 
door  and  entered,  hungry  and  absent-minded,  the  fire- 
light sti iking  upon  his  spectacles  and  seeming  to  enlarge 
them  tremendously  as  he  turned  his  head  from  side  to 
side,  inhaling  the  air  of  the  room  with  evident  delight. 

"Flowers,  eh?"  he  said.  "What  kind  of  flowers? 
The  air  seems  full  of  them." 

Bertha  rose  and  went  to  him,  Tredennis  watching  her 
girlish  pale-gray  figure,  as  it  moved  across  the  room, 
with  a  pained  and  bewildered  sense  of  having  lost  some- 
thing which  he  might  never  regain. 

"They  are  heliotropes,"  she  said;  "Philip  brought 
them  to  me.  It  is  my  first  bouquet,  so  I  shall  keep  it 
until  I  am  an  old  woman." 

A  week  later,  Tredennis  left  Washington.  It  so 
chanced  that  he  took  his  departure  on  the  night  ren- 
dered eventful  by  the  first  party.  In  the  excitement 
attendant  upon  the  preparations  for  this  festivity,  and 
for  his  own  journey,  he  saw  even  less  of  Bertha  than 
usual.  When  she  appeared  at  the  table  she  was  in  such 
bright,  high  spirits  that  the  professor  found  her  —  for 
some  private  reason  of  his  own  —  more  absorbing  than 
ever.  His  spectacles  followed  her  with  an  air  of  deep 
interest,  he  professed  an  untrained  anxiety  concerning 
the  dress  she  was  to  wear,  appearing  to  regard  it  as 
a  scientific  object  worthy  of  attention. 

"  She's  very  happy  ! "  he  would  say  to  Tredennis  again 
and  again.  "  She's  very  happy  !  "  And  having  said  it 
he  invariably  rubbed  his  forehead  abstractedly  and 
pushed  his  spectacles  a  trifle  awry,  without  appearing 
conscious  of  it. 

When  the  carriage  Tredennis  had  ordered  came  to  the 
door,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  coup6  which  was  to  convey 
Bertha  to  the  scene  of  her  first  triumphs  had  just  driven 
up. 

A  few  seconds  later  Bertha  turned  from  her  mirroi 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  15 

and  look  up  her  bouquet  of  white-  rose-buds  and  helio- 
trope, as  a  servant  knocked  at  the  door. 

"The  carriage  is  here,  miss,"  he  said;  "and  Mr. 
Tredennis  is  going  away,  and  says  would  you  come  and 
let  him  say  good-by." 

In  a  few  seconds  more,  Tredennis,  who  was  standing 
in  the  hall,  looked  up  from  the  carpet  and  saw  her  com- 
ing down  the  staircase  with  a  little  run,  her  white  dress 
a  cloud  about  her,  her  eyes  shining  like  stars,  the  rose 
and  heliotrope  bouquet  he  had  sent  her  in  her  hand. 

"  Thank  you  for  it,"  she  said,  as  soon  as  she  reached 
him.  "  I  shall  keep  this,  too  ;  and  see  what  I  have  done." 
And  she- pushed  a  leaf  aside  and  showed  him  a  faded 
sprig  of  heliotrope  hidden  among  the  fresh  flowers.  "  I 
thought  I  would  like  to  have  a  little  piece  of  it  among 
the  rest,"  she  said.  And  she  gave  him  her  hand,  with  a 
smile  both  soft  and  bright. 

"And  you  really  kept  it?  "  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  simply.  "You  know  I 
am  going  to  keep  it  as  long  as  I  live.  I  wish  we  could 
keep  you.  I  wish  you  were  going  with  us." 

"  I  am  going  in  a  different  direction,"  he  said ; 
"and" — suddenly,  "I  have  not  a  minute  to  spare. 
Good-by." 

A  little  shadow  fell  on  the  brightness  of  her  face. 

"I  wish  there  was  no  such  word  as  ' good-by,'"  she 
said. 

There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  seconds,  in  which  her 
hand  lay  in  his,  and  their  eyes  rested  on  each  other. 
Then  Mrs.  Herrick  and  the  professor  appeared. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Tredennis,  "  if  you  are  going  now, 
I  will  let  you  set  out  on  your  journey  first.  I  should 
like  to  see  —  the  last  of  you." 

"But  it  isn't  the  last  of  me,"  said  Bertha,  "it  is  the 
first  of  me  —  the  very  first.  And  my  heart  is  beating 
quite  fast." 

And  she  put  her  hand  to  the  side  of  her  slender  white 
bodice,  laughing  a  gay,  sweet  laugh,  with  a  thrill  of  ex- 


16  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

citement  in  it.  And  then  they  went  out  to  the  carriage, 
and  when  Mrs.  Herrick  had  been  assisted  in,  Bertha 
stood  for  a  moment  on  the  pavement,  —  a  bright,  pure 
white  figure,  her  flowers  in  her  hand,  the  hall  light  shin- 
ing upon  her. 

w  Papa ! "  she  called  to  the  professor,  who  stood  on 
the  threshold,  "  I  never  asked  you  if  you  liked  it  —  the 
dress,  you  know." 

"Yes,  child,"  said  the  professor.  "  Yes,  child,  I  like 
—  I  like  it. 

And  his  voice  shook  a  little,  and  he  said  nothing  more. 
And  then  Bertha  got  into  the  carriage  and  it  drove  away 
into  the  darkness.  And  almost  immediately  after 
Tredennis  found  himself  in  his  carriage,  which  drove 
away  into  the  darkness,  too —  only,  as  he  laid  his  head 
against  the  cushions  and  closed  his  eyes,  he  saw,  just  as 
he  had  seen  a  moment  before,  a  bright,  pure  white  fig- 
ure standing  upon  the  pavement,  the  night  behind  it, 
the  great  bouquet  of  white  roses  in  its  hand,  and  the 
light  from  the  house  streaming  upon  the  radiant  girl's 
face. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  17 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE  eight  years  that  followed  were  full  of  events  for 
Ttedennis.  After  the  first  two  his  name  began  to  be 
well  known  in  military  circles  as  that  of  a  manbold, 
cool,  and  remarkable  for  a  just  clear-sightedness  which 
set  him  somewhat  apart  from  most  men  of  his  class  and 
age.  Stationed  as  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  hostile 
Indian  country,  full  of  perilous  adventure,  a  twofold 
career  opened  itself  before  him.  His  nerve,  courage, 
and  physical  endurance  rendered  him  invaluable  in  time 
of  danger,  while  his  tendency  to  constant  study  of  the 
problems  surrounding  him  gave  him  in  time  of  peace 
the  distinction  of  being  a  thinking  man,  whose  logically 
deduced  and  clearly  stated  opinions  were  continually  of 
use  to  those  whose  positions  were  more  responsible  than 
his  own.  He  never  fell  into  the  ordinary  idle  routine 
of  a  frontier  camp  life.  In  his  plain,  soldierly  quarters 
he  worked  hard,  lived  simply,  and  read  much.  During 
the  first  year  he  was  rather  desolate  and  unhappy.  The 
weeks  he  had  spent  with  the  Herricks  had  been  by  no 
means  the  best  preparation  for  his  frontier  experience, 
since  they  had  revealed  to  him  the  possibilities  of  exist- 
ence such  as  he  had  given  no  thought  to  before.  His 
youth  had  been  rather  rigorous  and  lonely,  and  his  mis- 
fortune of  reserve  had  prevented  his  forming  any  inti- 
mate friendships.  His  boyhood  had  been  spent  at 
boarding-school,  his  early  manhood  at  West  Point,  and 
after  that  his  life  had  settled  itself  into  the  usual  wan- 
dering, homeless  groove  which  must  be  the  lot  of  an 
unmarried  military  man.  The  warm  atmosphere  of  a 
long- established  home,  its  agreeably  unobtrusive  routine 
which  made  the  changes  of  morning,  noon,  and  night 
all  something  pleasant  to  anticipate ;  the  presence  of 


18  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

the  women  who  could  not  be  separated  in  one's  mind 
from  the  household  itself,  —all  these  things  were  a  sort 
of  revelation  to  him.  He  had  enjoyed  them,  and  would 
have  felt  some  slight  sadness  in  leaving  them,  even  if 
he  had  not  left  something  else  also.  It  was  a  mere 
shadow  he  had  left,  but  it  was  a  shadow  whose  memory 
haunted  him  through  many  a  long  arid  lonely  hour,  and 
was  all  the  more  a  trouble  through  its  very  vagueness. 
He  was  not  the  man  likely  to  become  the  victim  of  a 
hopeless  passion  in  three  weeks.  His  was  a  nature  to 
awaken  slowly,  but  to  awaken  to  such  strength  of  feel- 
ing and  to  such  power  to  suffer,  at  last,  as  would  leave 
no  alternative  between  happiness  and  stolidly  borne  de- 
spair. If  fate  decreed  that  the  despair  and  not  the  happi- 
ness was  to  be  his  portion,  it  would  be  borne  silently  and 
with  stern  patience,  but  it  would  be  despair  nevertheless, 
As  it  was,  he  had  been  gradually  aroused  to  a  vague 
tenderness  of  feeling  for  the  brightness  and  sweetness 
which  had  been  before  him  day  after  day.  Sometimes, 
during  this  first  year  of  his  loneliness,  he  wondered  why 
he  had  not  gone  farther  and  reached  the  point  of  giving 
some  expression  to  what  he  had  felt ;  but  he  never  did 
so  without  being  convinced  by  his  after  reflections  that 
fmch  an  effort  would  only  have  told  against  him. 

"  It  wasn't  the  time,"  he  said  aloud  to  himself,  as  he 
sat  in  his  lonely  room  one  night.  "It  wasn't  the 
time." 

He  had  been  thinking  of  how  she  looked  as  she  came 
to  him  that  night,  in  her  simple  pale-gray  dress,  with 
the  little  lace  kerchief  tied  round  her  throat.  That,  and 
his  memory  of  the  bright  figure  at  the  carriage-door, 
*vere  pictures  which  had  a  habit  of  starting  up  before 
him  now  and  again,  though  chiefly  at  such  times  as  ha 
was  alone  and  rather  feeling  his  isolation. 

He  remembered  his  own  feeling  at  her  girlish  pleas- 
ure in  his  gift,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  her  attitude  as 
she  sat  afterward  on  the  low  seat  near  him,  her  chin 
resting  in  her  hollowed  palm,  her  smiling  eyes  uplifted 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  19 

to  his.  Her  pretty,  unstudied  attitudes  had  often  struck 
him,  and  this  one  lingered  in  his  fancy  as  somehow  be 
longing  naturally  to  a  man's  dreams  of  a  fireside. 

"If  the  room  and  fireside  were  your  own,"  he  said, 
abstractedly,  "you'd  like"  — 

He  stopped,  and,  rising  to  his  feet,  suddenly  began 
to  pace  the  room. 

"  But  it  wasn't  the  time,"  he  said.  "She  would  not 
have  understood  —  I  scarcely  understood  myself —  and 
if  we  should  ever  meet  again,  in  all  probability  the  time 
will  have  gone  by." 

After  such  thoughts  he  always  betook  himself  to  his 
books  again  with  quite  a  fierce  vigor,  and  in  the  rebound 
accomplished  a  great  deal. 

He  gave  a  great  deal  of  studious  attention  to  the 
Indian  question,  and,  in  his  determination  to  achieve 
practical  knowledge,  undertook  more  than  one  danger- 
ous adventure.  With  those  among  the  tribes  whom  it 
was  possible  to  approach  openly  he  made  friends,  study- 
ing their  languages  and  establishing  a  reputation  among 
them  for  honor  and  good  faith,  which  was  a  useful  ele- 
ment in  matters  of  negotiation  and  treaty. 

So  it  came  about  that  his  name  was  frequently  men- 
tioned in  "the  Department,"  and  drifted  into  the  news- 
papers, his  opinions  being  quoted  as  opinions  carrying 
weight,  and,  in  an  indirect  way,  the  Herricks  heard  of 
him  oftener  than  he  heard  of  them,  since  there  had 
been  no  regular  exchange  of  letters  between  them,  the 
professor  being  the  poorest  of  correspondents.  Occa- 
sionally, when  he  fell  upon  a  newspaper  paragraph 
commenting  upon  Tredennis'  work  and  explaining 
some  of  his  theories,  he  was  roused  to  writing  him  a 
letter  of  approval  or  argument,  and  at  the  close  of  such 
epistles  he  usually  mentioned  his  daughter  in  a  fashion 
peculiarly  his  own. 

"Bertha  is  happier  than  ever,"  he  said,  the  first 
winter.  "Bertha  is  well,  and  is  said  to  dance,  in  the 
most  astonishingly  attractive  manner,  an  astonishing  num  • 


20  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTR \TION. 

ber  of  times  every  evening.  This  I  gather  not  only 
from  her  mother,  but  from  certain  elaborately  orna- 
mented cards  they  call  programmes,  which  I  sometimes 
find  and  study  in  private,"  —  this  came  the  second 
winter.  The  third  he  said  :  "  It  dawns  upon  Bertha  that 
she  is  certainly  cleverer  than  the  majority  of  her  ac- 
quaintance. This  at  once  charms  and  surprises  her. 
She  is  careful  not  to  obtrude  the  fact  upon  public  notice, 
but  it  has  been  observed ;  and  I  find  she  has  quite  a 
little  reputation  'in  society'  as  an  unusually  bright  and 
ready  young  creature,  with  a  habit  of  being  delightfully 
equal  to  any  occasion.  I  gradually  discover  her  to  be 
full  of  subtleties,  of  which  she  is  entirely  unconscious. " 

Tredennis  read  this  a  number  of  times,  and  found 
food  for  reflection  in  it.  He  thought  it  over  frequently 
during  the  winter,  and  out  of  his  pondering  upon  it 
grew  a  plan  which  began  to  unfold  itself  in  his  mind, 
rather  vaguely  at  first,  but  afterward  more  definitely. 
This  plan  was  his  intention  to  obtain  leave  of  absence, 
and,  having  obtained  it,  to  make  his  way  at  once  to 
Washington. 

He  had  thought  at  first  of  applying  for  it  in  the 
spring,  but  fate  was  against  him.  Difficulties  which 
broke  out  between  the  settlers  and  certain  hostile  tribes 
called  him  into  active  service,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
severities  of  the  next  winter  aided  in  quelling  the  dis- 
turbance by  driving  the  Indians  into  shelter  that  he 
found  himself  free  again. 

It  was  late  on  New  Year's  Eve  that  he  went  to  his 
quarters  to  write  his  application  for  furlough.  He  had 
been  hard  at  work  all  day,  and  came  in  cold  and  tired, 
and  pleased  to  find  the  room  made  cheerful  by  a  greaz 
fire  of  logs,  whose  leaping  flames  brightend  and  warmed 
every  corner.  The  mail  had  come  in  during  his  ab- 
sence, and  two  or  three  letters  lay  upon  the  table  with 
the  eastern  papers,  but  he  pushed  them  aside  without 
opening  them. 

"I  will  look  at  them  afterward,"  he  said.     "This  shall 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  21 

be  done  first — before  the  clock  strike?  twelve.  Whec 
the  New  Year  comes  in"  — 

He  paused,  pen  in  hand,  accidentally  catching  a  glimpse 
of  his  face  in  the  by  no  means  flattering  shaving-glass 
which  hung  on  the  wall  opposite.  He  saw  himself  brown 
with  exposure,  bearing  marks  of  thought  and  responsi- 
bility his  age  did  not  warrant,  and  wearing  even  at  this 
moment  the  rather  stern  and  rigid  expression  which  he 
had  always  felt  vaguely  to  be  his  misfortune.  Recog- 
nizing it,  his  face  relaxed  into  a  half-smile. 

w  What  a  severe-looking  fellow  !  "  he  said.  "  That 
must  be  improved  upon.  No  one  could  stand  that.  It 
is  against  a  man  at  the  outset." 

And  the  smile  remained  upon  his  face  for  at  least  ten 
seconds  —  at  all  events  until  he  had  drawn  his  paper  be- 
fore him  and  begun  to  write.  His  task  was  soon  com- 
pleted. The  letter  written,  he  folded  it,  placed  it  in 
its  envelope  and  directed  it,  looking  as  immovable  as 
ever,  and  yet  conscious  of  being  inwardly  more  moved 
than  he  had  ever  been  before. 

"Perhaps,"  he  said,  half-aloud,  "this  is  the  time,  and 
it  is  well  I  waited." 

And  then  he  turned  to  the  letters  and  papers  awaiting 
him. 

The  papers  he  merely  glanced  over  and  laid  aside ; 
the  letters  he  opened  and  read.  There  were  four  of 
them,  three  of  them  business  epistles,  soon  disposed 
of;  the  sight  of  the  handwriting  upon  the  fourth  made 
his  heart  bound  suddenly,  —  it  was  the  clear,  space-sav- 
ing caligraphy  of  Professor  Herrick,  who  labelled  his 
envelopes  as  economically  as  if  they  had  been  entomo- 
logical specimens. 

w  It's  curious  that  it  should  have  come  now,"  Tre- 
dennis  said,  as  he  tore  it  open. 

It  was  a  characteristic  letter,  written,  it  appeared, 
with  the  object  of  convincing  Tredennis  that  he  had 
been  guilty  of  a  slight  error  in  one  of  his  statements 
concerning  the  sign-1  inguage  of  a  certain  tribe.  li 


22  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

devoted  five  pages  of  closely-written  paper  to  proofs 
and  researches  into  the  subject,  and  scientific  reasons 
for  the  truth  of  all  assertions  made.  It  was  clear,  and 
by  no  means  uninteresting.  The  professor  never  wa? 
uninteresting,  and  he  was  generally  correct.  Tredennis 
read  his  arguments  carefully  and  with  respect,  even 
with  an  occasional  thrill,  as  he  remembered  how  his 
communications  usually  terminated. 

But  this  was  an  exception  to  the  general  rule.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  fifth  page  he  signed  himself,  "Your 
sincere  friend,  Nathan  Herrick."  And  he  had  said 
nothing  about  Bertha. 

"Not  a  word,"  said  Tredennis.  "He  never  did  so 
before.  What  does  it  mean?  Not  a  word  ! " 

And  he  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  before  he 
saw  that  on  the  back  of  the  last  page  a  postscript 
was  written,  —  a  brief  one,  three  words,  without  com- 
ment, these  :  "Bertha  is  married." 

For  a  few  moments  Tredennis  sat  still  and  stared  at 
them.  The  glass  across  the  room  reflected  very  little 
change  in  his  face.  The  immovable  look  became  a 
trifle  more  immovable,  if  anything.  There  was  scarcely 
the  stirring  of  a  muscle. 

At  length  he  moved  slowly,  folding  the  letter  care- 
fully and  returning  it  to  its  envelope  in  exactly  the  folds 
it  had  lain  in  when  he  took  it  out.  After  that  he  rose 
and  began  to  pace  the  floor  with  a  slow  and  heavy  tread. 
Once  he  stopped  and  spoke,  looking  down  at  the  boards 
beneath  his  feet. 

"Bertha  is  married,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  hard  voice. 
And  the  clock  beginning  to  strike  at  the  moment,  he 
listened  until  it  ended  its  stroke  of  twelve,  and  then 
spoke  again. 

"The  New  Year,"  he  said ;  "  and  Bertha  is  married." 

And  he  walked  to  the  table  where  his  letter  of  appli- 
cation lay,  and,  taking  it  up,  tore  it  in  two  and  tossed 
it  into  the  fire. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  23 

FOUR  years  elapsed  before  he  saw  Washington,  and 
in  the  four  years  he  worked  harder  than  before,  added 
to  his  reputation  year  by  year,  and  led  the  unsettled  and 
wandering  existence  which  his  profession  entailed.  At 
rare  intervals  he  heard  from  the  professor,  and  once  01 
twice,  in  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  he  met  with 
Washingtonians  who  knew  the  family  and  gave  him 
news  of  them.  He  heard  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Herri ck 
and  something  of  Bertha's  life  from  the  professor,  and, 
on  one  occasion,  while  in  Chicago,  he  encountered  at  the 
house  of  an  acquaintance  a  pretty  and  charming  woman 
who  had  lived  in  Washington  before  her  marriage,  and, 
in  the  course  of  conversation,  the  fact  that  she  had 
known  the  Herricks  revealed  itself.  She  appeared  not 
only  to  have  known  but  to  have  liked  them,  and  really 
brightened  and  warmed  when  they  were  mentioned. 

w  I  was  very  fond  of  Bertha,"  she  said,  "  and  we  knew 
each  other  as  well  as  girls  can  know  each  other  in  the 
rush  of  a  Washington  winter.  I  was  one  of  her  brides- 
maids when  she  was  married.  Did  you  know  her 
well?" 

And  she  regarded  him  with  an  additional  touch  of  in 
terest  in  her  very  lovely  eyes. 

"Not  very  well,"  Tredennis  answered.  "We  are  dis- 
tantly related  to  each  other,  and  I  spent  several  weeks 
in  her  father's  house  just  after  her  return  from  school  ; 
but  I  did  not  know  her  so  well  as  I  knew  the  profes- 
sor." 

w  And  you  did  not  meet  Mr.  Amory  ?  " 

w  There  was  no  Mr.  Amory  then,"  was  Tredennis's 
reply. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  *  I  might 
have  known  that  if  I  had  thought  for  a  moment.  He 
only  appeared  upon  the  scene  the  winter  before  they 
were  married.  She  met  him  at  a  ball  at  the  Mexican 
minister's,  and  his  fate  was  sealed." 

Tredennh  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  he  asked  a 
question. 


24  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  Did  you  know  him  well?  "  he  said. 

She  reflected  an  instant,  and  then  replied,  smiling: 

"  He  was  too  much  in  love  for  one's  acquaintance  with 
him  to  progress  to  any  great  extent.  His  condition  was 
something  like  David  Copperfield's  when  he  said  that  ho 
uras  'saturated  with  Dora.'  He  was  saturated  with 
Bertha." 

"They  must  be  very  happy,"  remarked  Tredennis, 
and  he  did  not  know  that  he  spoke  in  a  hard  and  unre- 
sponsive tone,  and  that  his  face  was  more  stern  than 
was  at  all  necessary. 

"Naturally,"  responded  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  calmly. 
"They  have  money,  their  children  are  charming,  and 
their  social  position  is  unassailable.  Bertha  is  very 
clever,  and  Mr.  Amory  admires  her  and  is  very  indul- 
gent. But  he  could  scarcely  help  that.  She  is  that 
kind  of  person." 

"  She?"  repeated  Tredennis. 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  smiled  again. 

"Bertha,"  she  replied.  "People  are  always  indulgent 
with  her.  She  is  one  of  those  fortunate  persons  who 
are  born  without  any  tendency  to  demand,  and  who  con- 
sequently have  everything  given  to  them  without  the 
trouble  of  having  a  struggle.  She  has  a  pretty,  soft 
sort  of  way,  and  people  stand  aside  before  it.  Before 
I  knew  her  well  I  used  to  think  it  was  simply  clever- 
ness." 

"Wasn't  it?"  said  Tredennis. 

"Not  quite.  It  escapes  that  by  being  constitutional 
amiability  and  grace ;  but  if  it  wasn't  constitutional 
amiability  and  grace  it  would  le  cleverness,  and  you 
would  resent  it.  As  it  is,  you  like  her  for  it.  She  is 
pretty  and  charming,  and  has  her  little  world  at  her  feet, 
and  yet  her  manner  is  such  that  you  find  yourself  won- 
dering if  she  even  suspects  it." 

"Does  she?"  asked  Tredennis. 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  turned  her  attention  to  the  other  sicU 
of  tk«  room. 


THEOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  25 

"There  is  Mr.  Sylvestre,"  she  said,  serenely.  "Ho  ia 
coming  to  us.  You  must  know  each  other." 

And  then  Mr.  Sylvestre  sauntered  up.  He  was  a 
very  handsome  man,  with  a  rather  languid  air,  which 
remotely  suggested  that  if  he  took  off  his  manners  and 
folded  them  away  he  would  reveal  the  unadorned  fact 
that  he  was  bored.  But  even  he  bestirred  himself  a 
little  when  Tredennis'  relationship  to  the  Herricks  was 
mentioned. 

"  What !"  he  said.     "You  are  Mrs.  Amory's  cousin  ?" 

"Only  third  or  fourth,"  responded  Tredennis. 

"  By  Jove  !  You're  in  luck  ! "  his  new  acquaintance 
returned.  "Third  or  fourth  is  near  enough.  I  wouldn't 
object  to  sixth,  myself  Do  you  see  her  often?" 

"I  have  not  seen  her  for  seven  years." 

Mr.  Sylvestre  bestowed  a  critical  glance  upon  him. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  he  inquired,  languidly 
"  There's  something  radically  wrong  about  a  man  who 
neglects  his  opportunities  in  that  way."  He  paused  and 
smiled,  showing  his  white  teeth  through  his  mustache. 
"Oh,  she's  a  clever  little  dev  " —  He  pulled  himself  up 
with  remarkable  adroitness.  "She's  very  clever,"  he 
said.  "She's  delightfully  clever." 

"She  must  be,"  commented  Tredennis,  unenthusiasti- 
cally. "I  never  hear  her  mentioned  without  its  being 
added  that  she  is  very  clever." 

"You  would  be  likely  to  find  the  thing  out  for  your- 
self when  you  met  her — even  if  you  hadn't  heard  it,r 
said  Mr.  Sylvestre. 

When  Tredennis  returned  to  his  room  that  night  he 
sat  down  to  read,  deliberately  choosing  a  complicated 
work  which  demanded  the  undivided  attention  of  the 
peruser.  He  sat  before  it  for  half  an  hour,  with  bent 
brow  and  unyielding  demeanor ;  but  at  the  end  of  that 
tune  he  pushed  it  aside,  left  his  seat,  and  began  to  pace 
the  floor,  and  so  walked  with  a  gloomy  face  until  it  was 
long  past  midnight  when  he  put  out  the  light  and  went 
fee  bed. 


26  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION 


CHAPTER  HI. 

Two  years  later  he  found  himself,  one  ever  ing  in 
March,  driving  along  Pennsylvania  avenue  in  a  musty 
hack,  which  might  have  been  the  very  one  which  had 
borne  him  to  the  depot  the  night  he  had  seen  the  last 
of  Bertha  and  her  white  roses.  But  the  streets  were 
gayer  now  than  they  had  been  then.  He  had  arrived 
only  a  day  or  so  after  the  occurrence  of  an  event  of  no 
less  national  importance  than  the  inauguration  of  a 
newly  elected  President,  and  there  still  remained  traces 
of  the  festivities  attendant  upon  this  ceremony,  in  the 
shape  of  unremoved  decorations  fluttering  from  win- 
dows, draping  doors,  and  swaying  in  lines  across  the 
streets.  Groups  of  people,  wearing  a  rather  fatigued 
air  of  having  remained  after  the  feast  for  the  purpose 
of  more  extended  sight-seeing,  gave  the  sidewalks  a 
well-filled  look,  and  here  and  there  among  them  was  to 
be  seen  a  belated  uniform  which  had  figured  effectively 
in  the  procession  to  the  Capitol  two  days  before. 

Having  taken  note  of  these  things,  Tredennis  leaned 
back  upon  his  musty  cushions  with  a  half  sigh  of  weari- 
ness. 

"I  come  in  with  the  Administration,"  he  said.  WJ 
wonder  if  I  shall  go  out  with  it,  and  what  will  have 
happened  in  the  interval." 

He  was  thinking  of  his  past  and  what  it  had  paid  him. 
He  had  set  out  in  his  early  manhood  with  the  fixed  inten- 
tion of  making  for  himself  a  place  in  the  world  in  which 
he  might  feel  a  reasonable  amount  of  pride.  He  had  at- 
tained every  object  he  had  aimed  at,  with  the  knowledge 
that  he  had  given  for  every  such  object  its  due  value  in 
labor,  persistent  effort,  and  steadiness  of  purpose.  No 
man  of  his  age  stood  higher  in  his  profession  than  he 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  27 

did  —  very  few  as  high.  He  had  earned  distinction, 
honor,  and  not  a  little  applause.  He  had  found  himself 
"  a  lion  "  on  more  than  one  occasion,  and  though  he  had 
not  particularly  enjoyed  the  experience,  had  not  under- 
valued it  as  an  experience.  The  world  had  used  him 
well,  and  if  he  had  been  given  to  forming  intimacies  he 
might  have  had  many  friends.  His  natural  tendency 
to  silence  and  reserve  had  worked  against  him  in  this, 
but  as  it  was,  he  had  no  enemies  and  many  well-wishers. 
It  was  not  his  habit  to  bemoan  even  in  secret  his  rather 
isolated  life  ;  there  were  times  when  he  told  himself  that 
no  other  would  suit  him  so  well,  but  there  were  also 
times  when  he  recognized  that  it  was  isolated,  and  the 
recognition  was  one  which  at  such  moments  he  roused 
all  the  force  of  his  nature  to  shut  out  of  his  mind  as 
soon  as  possible.  He  had,  perhaps,  never  fully  known 
the  influence  his  one  vague  dream  had  had  upon  his  life. 
When  it  ended  he  made  a  steady  effort  to  adjust  him- 
self to  the  new  condition  of  existing  without  it,  and  had 
learned  much  of  the  strength  of  its  power  over  him  by 
the  strength  of  the  endeavor  it  had  cost  him.  His  in- 
ward thought  was,  that  if  there  had  been  a  little  more  to 
remember  the  memory  might  have  been  less  sad.  As  it 
was,  the  forgetting  was  a  slow,  vague  pain,  which  he  felt 
indefinitely  long  after  he  thought  that  it  had  died  away. 
He  put  the  old  drifting  fancies  out  of  his  mind,  and,  hav- 
ing no  leaning  toward  self-indulgence,  believed  at  last 
that  they  were  done  with  because  they  returned  but 
seldom ;  but  he  never  heard  of  Bertha,  either  through 
the  professor  or  through  others,  without  being  conscious 
for  days  afterward  of  an  unrest  he  called  by  no  name. 

He  rested  under  the  influence  of  this  feeling  as  he 
was  driven  through  the  lighted  streets  toward  his  hotel, 
and  his  recollection  of  his  last  drive  through  these  same 
streets  made  it  stronger. 

"  Eight  years,"  he  said.  w  She  has  been  to  many 
parties  since  then.  Let  us  hope  she  has  enjoyed  them 
ill." 


28  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

He  made  his  first  visit  to  the  professor  the  same 
evening,  after  he  had  established  himself  in  his  room 
and  dined.  The  professor  was  always  at  home  in  the 
svening,  and,  irregular  as  their  correspondence  had 
been,  Tredennis  felt  that  he  was  sure  of  a  welcome 
from  him. 

He  was  not  mistaken  in  this.    He  found  his  welcome. 

The  professor  was  seated  in  his  dressing-gown,  before 
his  study-table,  as  if  he  had  not  stirred  during  the  eight 
years.  He  had  even  the  appearance  of  being  upon  the 
point  of  empaling  the  same  corpulent  beetle  upon  the 
same  attenuated  pin,  and  of  engaging  in  the  occupation 
with  the  same  scientific  interest  Tredennis  remembered 
so  well. 

On  hearing  his  visitor's  name  announced,  he  started 
slightly,  laid  his  beetle  aside  with  care,  and,  rising  from 
his  seat,  came  forward  with  warm  pleasure  in  his  face. 

"  What  I "  he  exclaimed.  "  What !  —  you,  Tredennis  ! 
Well,  well !  I'm  very  glad,  my  dear  fellow  !  I'm  very 
glad," 

He  shook  his  hand  affectionately,  at  the  same  tune 
holding  him  by  the  shoulder,  as  if  to  make  more  sure  of 
him. 

"I  am  very  glad  myself,"  said  Tredennis.  "It  is  a 
great  pleasure  to  see  you  again." 

"And  it  took  you  eight  years  to  get  round  to  us," 
said  the  professor,  looking  at  him  thoughtfully,  and 
turning  him  round  a  trifle  more  to  the  light.  "  Eight 
years  I  That's  a  slice  out  of  a  man's  life,  too." 

"But  you  are  no  older,  professor,"  said  Tredennis. 
WI  am  older,  but  not  you." 

The  professor  nodded  acquiescence. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  all  about  that,"  he  said.  "  You're 
an  old  fellow,  now ;  I  was  an  old  fellow  myself  forty 
years  ago.  There,  sit  down,  and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
That  is  the  chair  you  sat  in  when  you  were  here  last. 
You  sat  in  it  the  night --the  night  we  talked  ubout 
Beitha." 


THROUGH   ONjs    ADMINISTRATION.  29 


CHAPTER  IV. 

n  How  is  Bertha?  "  Tredemm  asked. 

The  professor  sat  down  in  his  chair  and  took  up  the 
poker  quite  carefully. 

"  She  is  at  a  party  to-night,"  he  said,  poking  the  fire, 
"though  it  is  late  in  the  season  for  parties.  She 
generally  is  at  a  party  —  oftener  than  not  she  is  at  two 
or  three  parties." 

"  Then  she  must  be  well,"  suggested  Tredennis. 

"  Oh,  she  is  well,"  the  professor  answered.  "  And 
she  gets  a  good  deal  out  of  life.  She  will  always  get  a 
good  deal  out  of  it  —  in  one  way  or  another." 

"That  is  a  good  thing,"  remarked  Tredennis. 

"  Very,"  responded  the  professor,  "if  it's  all  in  the  one 
way  and  not  in  the  other." 

He  changed  the  subject  almost  immediately,  and 
began, to  discuss  Tredennis'  own  affairs.  His  kindly 
interest  in  his  career  touched  the  younger  man's  heart. 
It  seemed  that  he  had  taken  an  interest  in  him  from  the 
first,  and,  si  lent  as  he  had  been,  had  never  lost  sight  of  him. 

"  It  used  to  strike  me  that  you  would  be  likely  to 
make  something  of  your  life,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet,  half- 
abstracted  way.  "  You  looked  like  it.  I  used  to  say 
to  myself  that  if  you  were  my  son  I  should  look  for- 
ward to  being  proud  of  you.  I  —  I  wish  you  had  been 
my  son,  my  boy." 

"  If  I  had  been,"  answered  Tredennis,  earnestly,  ff  I 
should  have  felt  it  a  reason  for  aiming  high." 

The  professor  smiled  faintly. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you  aimed  high  without  that  in- 
centive. And  the  best  of  it  is  that  you  have  not  foiled, 
You  are  a  strong  fellow.  I  like  —  a  —  strong  — 
follow,"  he  added,  slowly. 


#0  THROUGH    ONE    A  DMINIST RATION. 

He  spoke  of  Bertha  occasionally  again  in  the  course 
of  their  after  conversation,  but  not  as  it  had  been  his 
habit  to  speak  of  her  in  her  girlhood.  His  references 
to  her  were  mostly  statements  of  facts  connected  with 
her  children,  her  mode  of  life,  or  her  household.  She 
lived  near  him,  her  home  was  an  attractive  one,  and  her 
children  were  handsome,  healthy,  and  bright. 

"  Amory  is  a  bright  fellow,  and  a  handsome  fellow," 
he  said.  "  He  is  not  very  robust,  but  he  is  an  attrac- 
tive creature  —  sensitive,  poetic  temperament,  fanciful. 
He  is  fanciful  about  Bertha,  and  given  to  admiring  her." 

When  he  went  away,  at  the  end  of  the  evening,  Tre- 
dennis  carried  with  him  the  old  vague  sense  of  discom- 
fort. The  professor  had  been  interesting  and  conver- 
sational, and  had  given  him  the  warmest  of  welcomes, 
but  he  had  missed  something  from  their  talk  which  he 
had  expected  to  find.  He  was  not  aware  of  how  he  had 
counted  upon  it  until  he  missed  it,  and  the  <sense  of  loss 
which  he  experienced  was  a  trouble  to  him. 

He  had  certainly  not  been  conscious  of  holding  Ber- 
tha foremost  in  his  mind  when  he  had  turned  his  steps 
toward  her  father's  house.  He  had  thought  of  how  his 
old  friend  would  look,  of  what  he  would  say,  and  had 
wondered  if  he  should  find  him  changed.  He  had  not 
asked  himself  if  he  should  see  Bertha  or  hear  of  her, 
and  yet  what  he  had  missed  in  her  father's  friendly  talk 
had  been  the  old  kindly,  interested  discussion  of  her, 
and  once  out  in  the  night  air  and  the  deserted  streets 
he  knew  that  he  was  sadder  for  his  visit  than  he  had 
funded  he  should  be.  The  bright,  happy,  girlish  figure 
seemed  to  have  passed  out  of  the  professor's  life  also  — 
out  of  the  home  it  had  adorned  —  even  out  of  the  world 
itself.  His  night's  sleep  was  not  a  very  peaceful  one, 
but  the  next  morning  when  he  rose,  the  light  of  day 
and  the  stir  of  life  around  him  seemed  to  have  dispelled 
the  reality  of  his  last  night's  fancies.  His  mind  had 
resolved  itself  into  a  condition  with  which  he  was  fa- 
miliar, and  he  was  aroused  to  interest  and  pleasure  is 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  31 

his  surroundings.  His  memory  was  once  more  the 
ghost  of  a  memory  which  he  had  long  accustomed  him- 
self to  living  without.  During  the  morning  his  time 
was  fully  occupied  by  his  preparations  for  his  new 
duties,  but  in  the  afternoon  he  was  at  liberty,  and  re- 
membering a  message  he  was  commissioned  to  deliver 
to  the  sister  of  a  brother  officer,  he  found  his  way  to 
the  lady's  house. 

It  was  a  house  in  a  fashionable  street,  and  its  mistress 
was  a  fashionable  little  person,  who  appeared  delighted 
to  see  him,  and  to  treat  him  with  great  cordiality. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  were  so  good  as  to  call  to-day," 
she  said.  "  Mr.  Gardner  heard  that  you  had  arrived, 
but  did  not  know  where  you  were,  or  he  would  have 
seen  you  this  morning.  What  a  pity  that  you  were  not 
in  time  for  the  inauguration  !  The  ball  was  more  than 
usually  successful.  I  do  hope  you  will  let  us  see  you 
to-night." 

"To-night?"  repeated  Tredennis. 

"Yes.  We  want  you  so  much,"  she  continued.  "We 
give  a  little  party,  —  only  a  little  one,  —  and  we  shall 
be  so  glad.  There  will  be  several  people  here  who  will 
be  delighted  to  meet  you,  — the  gentleman  who  is  spoken 
of  as  likely  to  be  the  new  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  for  in- 
stance. He  will  be  charmed.  Mr.  Gardner  has  told 
me  what  interesting  things  you  have  been  doing,  and 
what  adventures  you  have  had.  I  shall  feel  quite  sure 
that  my  party  will  be  a  success,  if  you  will  consent  to 
be  my  lion." 

"I  am  afraid  my  consenting  wouldn't  establish  the 
fact,"  said  Tredennis.  "You  would  want  a  mane,  and 
a  roar,  and  claws.  But  you  are  very  kind  to  ask  me  to 
your  party." 

The  end  of  the  matter  was  that,  after  some  exchange 
of  civilities,  he  gave  a  half-promise  to  appear,  men- 
tally reserving  the  privilege  of  sending  "regrets"  if  he 
did  not  feel  equal  to  the  effort  when  night  arrived.  He 
was  not  fond  of  parties.  And  so,  having  delivered  the 


32  THROUGH   ONte    ADMINISTRATION. 

message  with  which  he  had  been  commissioned,  he  made 
his  adieus  and  retired.  . 

When  night  came  he  was  rather  surmised  to  find 
lurking  in  his  mind  some  slight  inclination  to  abide  by 
his  promise.  Accordingly,  after  having  taken  a  delib- 
erate, late  dinner,  read  the  papers,  and  written  a  letter 
or  so,  he  dressed  himself  and  issued  forth. 

On  arriving  at  his  destination  he  found  the  "little 
party"  a  large  one.  The  street  was  crowded  with 
carriages,  the  house  was  brilliantly  lighted,  an  awning 
extended  from  the  door  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement, 
and  each  carriage,  depositing  its  brilliant  burden  within 
the  protection  of  the  striped  tunnel,  drove  rapidly  away 
to  give  place  to  another. 

Obeying  the  injunctions  of  the  servant  at  the  door  Tre- 
dennis  mounted  to  the  second  story  and  divested  himself 
of  his  overcoat,  with  the  assistance  of  a  smart  mulatto, 
who  took  it  in  charge.  The  room  in  which  he  found 
himself  was  rather  inconveniently  crowded  with  men, 
—  young,  middle-aged,  elderly,  some  of  them  wearing 
a  depressed  air  of  wishing  themselves  at  home,  some 
bearing  themselves  stolidly,  and  others  either  quietly 
resigned  or  appearing  to  enjoy  themselves  greatly.  It  was 
not  always  the  younger  ones  who  formed  this  last  class 
Tredennis  observed.  In  one  corner  a  brisk  gentleman, 
with  well-brushed,  gray  beard,  laughed  delightedly  over 
a  story  just  related  to  him  with  much  sprightliness  by  a 
companion  a  decade  older  than  himself,  while  near  them 
an  unsmiling  youth  of  twenty  regarded  their  ecstasies 
without  the  movement  of  a  muscle. 

Tredennis'  attention  was  attracted  for  a  moment  tow- 
ard two  men  who  stood  near  him,  evidently  awaiting 
the  appearance  of  some  one  at  the  door  of  the  ladies 
cloak-room,  which  they  could  see  from  where  they 
stood. 

One  of  them  leaned  in  a  nicely  managed  labor-saving 
attitude  against  the  door-post.  He  was  a  rather  tall, 
blonde  young  man,  with  a  face  eminently  calculated  to 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  33 

express  either  a  great  deal  or  absolutely  nothing  at  all, 
as  he  chose  to  permit  it,  and  his  unobtrusive  evening 
dress  had  an  air  of  very  agreeable  fitness  and  neatness, 
and  quite  distinguished  itself  by  seeming  to  belong  to 
him.  It  was  his  laugh  which  called  Tredennis'  atten- 
tion to  him.  He  laughed  in  response  to  some  remark  of 
his  companion's, — a  non-committal  but  naturally  sound- 
ing baritone  laugh,  which  was  not  without  its  attractive- 
ness. 

"Yes,  I  was  there,"  he  said. 

"And  sang?" 

"  No,  thank  you." 

w  And  she  was  there,  of  course  ?  " 

"  She  ? "  repeated  his  friend,  his  countenance  at  this 
moment  expressing  nothing  whatever,  and  doing  it  very 
well. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Amory,"  responded  the  other,  wlo  was 
young  enough  and  in  sufficiently  high  spirits  to  be  led 
into  forgetting  to  combine  good  taste  with  his  hilarity. 

"  You  might  say  Mrs.  Amory,  —  if  you  don't  object," 
replied  his  companion,  quietly.  "It  would  be  more 
civil." 

Then  Tredennis  passed  out  and  heard  no  more. 

He  made  his  way  down  the  stairs,  which  were  crowded 
with  guests  going  down  and  coming  up,  and  presented 
himself  at  the  door  of  the  first  of  the  double  parlors, 
where  he  saw  his  hostess  standing  with  her  husband. 
Here  he  was  received  with  the  greatest  warmth,  MIL. 
Gardner  brightening  visibly  when  she  caught  sight  of 
him. 

w  Now,"  she  said,  "  this  is  really  good  of  you.  I  was 
almost  afraid  to  let  you  go  away  this  afternoon.  Mr. 
Gardner,  Colonel  Tredennis  is  really  here,"  she  added, 
with  frank  cordiality. 

After  that  Tredennis  found  himself  swallowed,  as  in  a 
maelstrom.  He  was  introduced  right  and  left,  hearing  a 
name  here  and  seeing  a  face  there,  and  always  conscious 
of  attaching  th«  wrong  names  to  the  faces  as  he  struggled 


34  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

to  retain  some  impression  of  both  in  his  memory.  Mrs. 
Gardner  bore  him  onward,  filled  with  the  most  amiable 
and  hospitable  delight  in  the  sensation  he  awakened  as 
she  led  him  toward  the  prominent  official  in  prospective 
before  referred  to,  who  leaned  against  a  mantel-piece 
and  beguiled  his  time  by  making  himself  quite  agreeable 
to  a  very  pretty  young  debutante  who  was  recounting 
her  experience  at  the  inaugural  ball.  Here  Tredennis 
wab  allowed  to  free  himself  from  the  maelstrom  and  let 
it  whirl  past  him,  as  he  stood  a  little  aside  and  conversed 
with  his  new  acquaintance,  who  showed  deep  interest  in 
and  much  appreciation  of  all  he  had  to  say,  and  evi- 
dently would  have  been  glad  to  prolong  the  interview 
beyond  the  moment,  when  some  polite  exigency  called 
him  away  in  the  midst  of  an  animated  discussion  of  the 
rights  of  Indian  agents  and  settlers. 

When  he  had  gone  Tredennis  still  remained  standing 
where  he  had  left  him,  enjoying  his  temporary  seclusion 
and  the  opportunity  of  looking  on  with  the  cool  specu- 
lation of  an  outsider. 

He  had  been  looking  on  thus  for  some  moments,  — 
at  the  passing  to  and  fro,  at  the  well-bred  elbowing 
through  the  crush,  at  the  groups  gathering  themselves 
here  and  there  to  exchange  greetings  and  then  breaking 
apart  and  drifting  away,  —  when  he  suddenly  became 
aware  of  a  faint  fragrance  in  the  atmosphere  about  him 
which  impressed  itself  upon  him  with  a  curious  insist- 
ence. On  his  first  vague  recognition  of  its  presence  he 
could  not  have  told  what  it  was,  or  wrhy  it  roused  in 
him  something  nearer  pain  than  pleasure.  It  awakened 
in  him  a  queer  sense  of  impatience  with  the  glare  of  light, 
the  confusion  of  movement  and  voices,  and  the  gay 
measure  of  the  music  in  the  next  room.  And  almost 
the  instant  he  felt  this  impatience  a  flash  of  recognition 
broke  upon  him,  and  he  knew  what  the  perfume  was, 
and  that  it  seemed  out  of  place  in  the  glare  and  confu- 
sion simply  because  his  one  distinct  memory  of  it  as- 
sociated it/self  only  with  the  night  when  he  had  sat  in  tin 


THROUGH    OXE    APxtflNISTRATION.  35 

fire-light  with  Bertha,  and  she  had  held  the  heliotrope 
in  her  hand.  With  this  memory  in  his  mind,  and  with 
a  half  smile  at  his  own  momentary  resentment  of  the 
conditions  surrounding  him,  he  turned  toward  the  spot 
near  from  which  he  fancied  the  odor  of  the  flowers  came, 
thinking  that  it  had  floated  from  some  floral  decoration 
of  the  deep  window.  And  so,  turning,  he  saw  —  sur- 
rounded by  what  seemed  to  be  the  gayest  group  in  the 
room  —  Bertha  herself ! 

She  was  exquisitely  dressed,  and  stood  in  the  prettiest 
possible  pose,  supporting  herself  lightly  against  the  side 
of  the  window ;  she  had  a  bouquet  in  her  hand  and  a 
brilliant  smile  on  her  lips,  and  Tredennis  knew  in  an 
instant  that  she  had  seen  and  recognized  him. 

She  did  not  move ;  she  simply  retained  her  pretty 
pose,  smiling  and  waiting  for  him  to  come  to  her,  and, 
though  she  said  nothing  to  her  companions,  something 
in  her  smile  evidently  revealed  the  situation  to  them,  for, 
almost  immediately,  the  circle  divided  itself,  and  room 
wa»  made  for  him  to  advance  within  it. 

Often  afterward  Tredennis  tried  to  remember  how  he 
moved  toward  her,  and  what  he  said  when  he  found  him- 
self quite  near  her,  holding  the  gloved  band  she  gave 
him  so  lightly ;  but  his  recollections  were  always  of  the 
vaguest.  There  scarcely  seemed  to  have  been  any  first 
words  —  he  was  at  her  side,  she  gave  him  her  hand, 
and  then,  in  the  most  natural  manner,  the  group  about 
her  seemed  to  melt  away,  and  they  were  left  together, 
and  he,  glancing  half  unconsciously  down  at  her  bouquet, 
saw  that  it  was  made  of  heliotrope  and  Marechal  Niel 
roses. 

She  was  so  greatly  and  yet  so  little  changed  that  he 
felt,  as  he  looked  at  her,  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  He 
tried  to  analyze  the  change  and  could  not,  and  the  effort 
to  do  so  was  a  pain  to  him.  The  color  in  her  cheeks 
was  less  bright  than  he  remembered  it,  but  her  eyes 
were  brighter ;  he  thought  also  that  they  looked  larger, 
and  soon  recognized  that  this  was  not  only  because  her 


36  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

face  was  less  girlishly  full,  but  arose  from  a  certain 
alertness  of  expression  which  had  established  itself  in 
them.  And  yet,  despite  their  clear  brightness,  when 
she  lifted  them  to  his  own,  his  sense  of  loss  was  for  the 
insj.ant  terrible.  Her  slight,  rounded  figure  was  even 
prettier  than  ever,  —  mors  erect,  better  borne,  and  with 
a  delicate  consciousness  and  utilizing  of  its  own  graces, 
—  but  it  was  less  easy  to  connect  it  mentally  with  the 
little  gray  gown  and  lace  kerchief  than  he  could  ever 
have  believed  possible. 

Her  very  smile  and  voice  had  changed.  The  smile 
was  sometimes  a  very  brilliant  one  and  sometimes  soft 
and  slow,  as  if  a  hidden  meaning  lay  behind  it ;  the  voice 
was  low-pitched,  charmingly  modulated,  and  expressed 
far  more  than  the  words  it  gave  to  a  listener,  but  Tre- 
dennis  knew  that  he  must  learn  to  know  them  both,  and 
that  to  do  so  would  take  time  and  effort. 

He  never  felt  this  so  strongly  as  when  she  sat  down 
on  the  cushioned  window-seat,  and  made  a  little  gesture 
toward  the  place  at  her  side. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said,  with  the  soft  smile  this  time,  — 
a  smile  at  once  sweet  and  careless.  "Sit  down,  and  tell 
me  if  you  are  glad  to  be  stationed  in  Washington ;  and 
let  me  tell  you  that  papa  is  delighted  at  the  prospect  of 
your  being  near  him  again." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Tredennis ;  "  and  as  to  the 
being  here,  I  think  I  like  the  idea  of  the  change  well 
enough." 

K  You  will  find  it  a  great  change,  I  dare  say,"  she 
went  on;  "though,  of  course,  you  have  not  devoted 
yourself  to  the  Indians  entirely  during  your  absence. 
But  Washington  is  unlike  any  other  American  city.  I 
think  it  is  unlike  any  other  city  in  the  universe.  It  is  an 
absorbingly  interesting  place  when  you  get  used  to  it." 

"  You  are  fortunate  in  finding  it  so,"  said  Tredennis. 

"I ? "  she  said,  lightly.  "Oh  I  I  do  not  think  I  could 
resign  myself  to  living  anywhere  else ;  though,  when 
you  reflect,  of  course  you  know  that  is  a  national 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  57 

q  iality.  All  good  Americans  adore  the  city  they  con- 
fer distinction  on  by  living  in,  and  asperse  the  characters 
of  all  other  places.  Englishmen  believe  in  London,  and 
Frenchmen  in  Paris ;  but  in  America,  a  New  Yorker 
vaunts  himself  upon  New  York,  a  Bostonian  glories  in 
Boston,  and  a  Washingtonian  delights  in  the  capital  of 
his  country ;  and  so  on,  until  you  reach  New  Orleans." 

"That  is  true  enough,"  said  Tredennis,  "though  I  had 
not  thought  of  it  before." 

"  Oh,  it  is  true,"  she  answered,  with  an  airy  laugh, 
fhen  she  added,  with  a  change  of  tone,  "  You  have 
oeen  away  for  a  long  time." 

"  Eight  years,"  he  replied. 

He  thought  she  gave  a  slight  start,  but  immediately 
she  turned  upon  him  with  one  of  the  brilliant  smiles. 

"  We  have  had  time  to  grow  since  then,"  she  said,  — 
"not  older,  of  course,  but  infinitely  wiser — and  better." 

He  did  not  find  it  easy  to  comprehend  very  clearly 
either  her  smile  or  her  manner.  He  felt  that  there  might 
be  something  hidden  behind  both,  though  certainly 
nothing  could  have  been  brighter  or  more  inconsequent 
than  her  tone.  He  did  not  smile,  but  regarded  her  for 
a  moment  with  a  look  of  steady  interest,  of  which  he 
was  scarcely  conscious.  She  bore  it  for  an  instant,  and 
then  turned  her  eyes  carelessly  aside,  with  a  laugh. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  are  changed  at  all,"  she  said. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  still  watching  her,  and  trying  to 
adjust  himself  to  her  words. 

"  You  looked  at  me  then,"  she  said,  "just  as  you  used 
to  when  you  were  with  us  before,  and  I  said  something 
frivolous.  I  am  afraid  I  was  often  frivolous  in  those 
days.  I  confess  I  suspected  myself  of  it,  and  one  day 
I  even  made  a  resolution  "  -  - 

She  did  start  then  —  as  if  some  memory  had  suddenly 
returned  to  her.  She  lifted  her  bouquet  to  her  face  and 
let  it  slowly  drop  upon  her  knee  agun  as  she  turned 
and  looked  at  him. 

"  I  remember  now,"  she  said,  "  that  I  made  that  reso- 


38  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTEA1TON. 

lution  the  day  you  brought  me  the  heliotrope/1  And 
now  it  seemed  for  the  instant  to  be  her  turn  to  regard 
him  with  interest. 

"  I  don't  know  what  the  resolution  was,"  he  said, 
rather  grimly,  "but  I  hope  it  was  a  good  one.  Did 
you  keep  it?" 

"  No,"  she  answered,  undisturbedly  ;  "  but  I  kept  the 
heliotrope.  You  know  I  said  I  would.  It  is  laid  away 
in  one  of  my  bureau  drawers." 

"And  the  first  party?"  he  asked.  "Was  it  a  suc- 
cess?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  replied,  "it  was  a  great  success.  I 
am  happy  to  say  that  all  my  parties  are  successes,  inas- 
much as  I  enjoy  them." 

"  Is  this  a  success  ? "  he  inquired.  She  raised  her 
bouquet  to  her  face  again  and  glanced  over  it  at  the 
crowded  room. 

"  It  is  an  immense  success,"  she  said.  "  Such  things 
always  are  —  in  Washington.  Do  you  see  that  little 
woman  on  the  sofa?  Notice  what  bright  eyes  she  has, 
and  how  quickly  they  move  from  one  person  to  another 
—  like  a  bird's.  She  is  '  our  Washington  correspond- 
ent '  for  half-a-dozen  Western  papers,  and  '  does  the 
social  column '  in  one  of  our  principal  dailies,  and  to- 
morrow you  will  read  in  it  that  '  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant receptions  of  the  season  was  held  last  night  at  the 
charming  home  of  Mrs.  Winter  Gardner,  on  K  street.' 
You  will  also  learn  that  '  Mrs.  Richard  Amory  was 
lovely  in  white  brocade  and  pearls,'  and  that '  noticeable 
among  even  the  stateliest  masculine  forms  was  the  im- 
posing figure  of  Colonel  Tredennis,  the  hero  of  Indian 
adventure  and '  "  — 

She  had  been  speaking  in  the  quietest  possible  man- 
ner, looking  at  the  scene  before  her  and  not  at  him ;  but 
here  she  stopped  and  bent  toward  him  a  little. 

"  Have  you,"  she  said,  softly,  "  such  a  thing  as  a  scalp 
about  you?" 

He  was  by  no  means  prepared  for  the  inquiry,  buj 


TH11OUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  39 

he  sustained  himself  under  it  in  his  usual  immovable 
manner.  He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  breast  and  then 
dropped  it. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  he  said.  "Not  in  this  suit.  I  for- 
got, in  dressing,  that  I  might  need  them.  But  I  might 
go  back  to  the  hotel,"  he  added,  suggestively. 

"Oh,  no,  thanks,"  she  said,  returning  to  her  former 
position.  "  I  was  only  thinking  how  pleased  she  would 
be  if  you  could  show  her  a  little  one,  and  tell  her  the 
history  of  it.  It  would  be  so  useful  to  her." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  Tredennis. 

"You  would  be  more  sorry,"  she  went  on,  "if  you 
knew  what  an  industrious  little  person  she  is,  and  with 
what  difficulty  she  earns  her  ten  dollars  a  column.  She 
goes  to  receptions,  and  literary  and  art  clubs,  and  to 
the  White  House,  and  the  Capitol,  and  knows  every- 
body and  just  what  adjectives  they  like,  and  how  many  ; 
and  is  never  ill-natured  at  all,  though  it  really  seems  to 
me  that  such  an  existence  offers  a  premium  to  spiteful- 
ness.  I  am  convinced  that  it  would  make  me  spiteful. 
But  she  never  loses  control  over  her  temper  —  or  her 
adjectives.  If  I  weighed  two  hundred  pounds,  for  in- 
stance, she  would  refer  to  my  avoirdupois  as  'matronly 
embonpoint;'  and  if  I  were  a  skeleton,  she  would  say  I 
had  a  f  slight  and  reed-like  figure,'  which  is  rather  clever, 
you  know,  as  well  as  being  Christian  charity." 

"  And  she  will  inform  the  world  to-morrow  that  your 
dress,"  glancing  down  at  it,  "was  white"  — 

"  And  that  my  hair  was  brown,  as  usual,"  she  ended 
for  him.  w  And  that  I  carried  a  bouq  let  of  heliotrope 
and  roses." 

"  I  hope  you  like  it,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  very  much  indeed,  thank  you,"  was  her  re- 
sponse. "And  if  I  did  not,  somebody  else  would,  or 
it  is  plain  that  she  would  not  get  her  ten  dollars  a  column. 
It  has  struck  me  that  she  doesn't  do  it  for  amusement, 
or  with  the  deliberate  intention  of  annoying  people. 
For  my  part ,  I  admire  and  envy  her.  There  is  no  col 


*0  THROUGH   ON/3    ADMINISTRATION. 

lection  so  valuable  as  a  collection  of  adjectives.  Every- 
thing  depends  on  adjectives.  You  can  begin  a  friend- 
ship  or  end  it  with  one  —  or  an  enmity,  either." 

"  Will  you  tell  me,"  said  Tredennis,  "  what  adjectiv* 
you  would  apply  to  the  blonde  young  man  on  the  othei 
side  of  the  room,  who  has  just  picked  up  a  lady's  hand- 
kerchief? " 

She  looked  across  the  room  at  the  person  in  licated, 
and  did  not  reply  at  once.  There  was  a  faintly  reflect- 
ive smile  in  her  eyes,  though  it  could  scarcely  be  said 
to  touch  her  lips.  The  man  was  the  one  who  had  at- 
tracted Tredennis'  attention  at  the  door  of  the  cloak- 
room, and  since  coming  down-stairs  he  haJ  regarded 
him  with  some  interest  upon  each  occasion  when  he  had 
caught  sight  of  him  as  he  moved  from  room  to  room, 
evidently  at  once  paying  unobtrusive  but  unswerving 
attention  to  the  social  exigencies  of  his  position,  and 
finding  a  decent  amount  of  quiet  entertainment  in  the 
results  of  his  efforts. 

WI  wish  you  would  tell  me,"  said  Bertha,  after  her  lit- 
tle pause,  "what  adjective  you  would  apply  to  him." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  Tredennis,  "  that  our  acquaintance 
is  too  limited  at  present  to  allow  of  my  grasping  the 
subject.  As  I  don't  chance  to  know  him  at  all "  — 

Bertha  interposed,  still  watching  the  object  of  discus- 
sion with  the  faintly  reflective  smile. 

"  I  have  known  him  for  six  years,"  she  said,  "and  I 
have  not  found  his  adjective  yet.  He  is  a  cousin  of  Mr. 
Amory's.  Suppose,"  she  said,  turning  with  perfect 
seriousness  and  making  a  slight  movement  as  if  she 
would  rise,  —  "suppose  we  go  and  ask  Miss  Jessup?" 

Tredennis  offered  her  his  arm. 

"  Let  us  hope  that  Miss  Jessup  can  tell  us,"  he  said. 

His  imperturbable  readiness  seemed  to  please  her. 
Her  little  laugh  had  a  genuine  sound  in  it.  She  sat  down 
agdn. 

'  I  am  afraid  she  could  not,"  she  said.  "  See  J  he 
is  coining  to  speak  to  me,  and  we  might  ask  him." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  41 

But  she  did  not  ask  him  when  he  presented  himself 
before  her,  as  he  did  almost  immediately.  He  had  come 
to  remind  her  that  dancing  was  going  on  in  one  of  the 
rooms,  and  that  she  had  promised  him  the  waltz  the 
musicians  had  just  struck  into  with  a  flourish. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  remember  that  you  said  the  third 
waltz,"  he  said,  "  and  this  is  the  third  waltz." 

Bertha  rose. 

"  I  remember,"  she  said,  "  and  I  think  I  am  ready  for 
it ;  but  before  you  take  me  away  you  must  know  Colonel 
Tredennis.  Of  course  you  do  know  Colonel  Tredennis, 
but  you  must  know  him  better.  Colonel  Tredennis, 
this  is  Mr.  Arbuthnot." 

The  pair  bowed,  as  civility  demanded.  Of  the  two, 
it  must  be  confessed  that  TredenmV  recognition  of  the 
ceremony  was  the  less  cordial .  Just  for  the  moment  he 
was  conscious  of  feeling  secretly  repelled  by  the  young 
man's  well-carried,  conventional  figure  and  calm,  blond 
countenance,  — the  figure  seemed  so  correct  a  copy  of 
a  score  of  others,  the  blond  countenance  expressed  so 
little  beyond  a  carefully  trained  tendency  to  good  man- 
ners, entirely  unbiassed  by  any  human  emotion. 

w  By  the  time  our  waltz  is  finished,"  said  Bertha,  as 
ihe  took  his  arm,  "  I  hope  that  Mr.  Amory  will  be  here. 
He  promised  me  that  he  would  come  in  toward  the  end 
of  the  evening.  He  will  be  very  glad  to  find  you  here." 

And  then,  with  a  little  bow  to  Tredennis,  she  went 
away. 

She  did  not  speak  to  her  companion  until  they  reached 
the  room  where  the  dancers  were  congregated.  Then, 
as  they  took  their  place  among  the  waltzers,  she  broke 
the  silence. 

"  If  I  don't  dance  well,"  she  said,  "  take  into  consider- 
ation the  fact  that  I  have  just  been  conversing  with  a 
man  I  knew  eight  years  ago." 

"You  will  be  sure  to  dance  well,"  said  Arbuthnot,  as 
they  began.  "But  I  don't  mind  acknowledging  an  ob- 
jection to  persons  I  knew  eight  years  ago.  I  never 


42  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

could  find  any  sufficient  reason  for  their  turning  up. 
And,  as  to  your  friend,  it  strikes  me  it  shows  a  great 
lack  of  taste  in  the  Indians  to  have  consented  to  part 
with  him.  It  appeared  to  me  that  he  possessed  a  man- 
ner calculated  to  endear  him  to  aboriginal  society  be- 
yond measure.'* 

Bertha  laughed,  —  a  laugh  whose  faintness  might  have 
arisen  frcm  her  rapid  motion. 

"lie's  rather  rigorous-looking,"  she  said;  "but  he 
always  was.  Still,  I  remember  I  was  beginning  to  like 
him  quite  well  when  he  went  West.  Papa  is  very  fond 
of  him.  He  turns  out  to  be  a  persistent,  heroic  kind 
of  being — with  a  purpose  in  life,  and  the  rest  of  it." 

"His  size  is  heroic  enough,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "He 
would  look  better  on  a  pedestal  in  a  public  square  than 
in  a  parlor." 

Bertha  made  no  reply,  but,  after  having  made  the 
round  of  the  room  twice,  she  stopped. 

"I  am  not  dancing  well,"  she  said.  "I  do  not  think 
I  am  in  a  dancing  mood.  I  will  sit  down." 

Arbuthnot  glanced  at  her,  and  then  looked  away. 

"Do  you  want  to  be  quiet?"  he  asked. 

"I  want  to  be  quieter  than  this,"  she  answered;  "for 
a  few  minutes.  I  believe  I  am  tired." 

"  You  have  been  going  out  too  much,"  he  said,  as  he 
led  her  into  a  small  side-room  which  had  been  given 
up  to  a  large,  ornate  punch-bowl,  to  do  reverence  to 
which  occasional  devotees  wandered  in  and  out. 

"I  have  been  going  out  a  great  deal,"  she  answered. 

She  leaned  back  in  the  luxurious  little  chair  he  had 
given  her,  and  looked  across  the  hall  into  the  loom 
where  the  waltz  was  at  its  height,  and,  having  looked, 
she  laughed. 

"Do  you  see  that  girl  in  the  white  dress,  which 
doesn't  fit,"  she  said,  -  "  the  plump  girl  who  bags  at 
the  waist  and  is  oblivious  to  it  —  and  everything  else  but 
her  waltz  and  her  partner?" 

w  Yes,"  he  responded  ;  "but  I  hope  you  are  not  laugh. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  43 

:ng  at  her, — there  is  no  need  of  it.  She's  having  a 
fascinating  time." 

"Yes,"  she  returned.  "  She  is  having  a  lively  time  ; 
but  I  am  not  laughing  at  her,  but  at  what  she  reminds 
me  of.  Do  you  know,  I  was  just  that  age  when  Colonel 
Tredennis  saw  me  last.  I  was  not  that  size  or  that 
shape,  and  my  dresses  used  to  fit  —  but  I  was  just  that 
age,  and  just  as  oblivious,  and  danced  with  just  that 
spirit  of  enjoyment." 

"  You  dance  with  just  as  much  enjoyment  now,"  said 
Arbuthnot,  "  and  you  are  quite  as  oblivious  at  times, 
though  it  may  suit  your  fancy  just  at  the  present  moment 
to  regard  yourself  as  a  shattered  wreck  confronted  with 
the  ruins  of  your  lost  youth  and  innocence.  I  revel  in 
that  kind  of  thing  myself  at  intervals,  but  it  does  not 
last." 

"No,"  she  said,  opening  her  fan  with  a  smile,  and 
looking  down  at  the  Cupids  and  butterflies  adorning  it, 
"of  course  it  won't  last,  and  I  must  confess  that  I  am  not 
ordinarily  given  to  it  —  but  that  man  !  Do  you  know,  it 
was  a  curious  sort  of  sensation  that  came  over  me  when 
I  first  saw  him.  I  was  standing  near  a  window,  talking 
to  half-a-dozen  people,  and  really  enjoying  myself  very 
much,  —  you  know  I  nearly  always  enjoy  myself, — 
and  suddenly  something  seemed  to  make  me  look  up  — 
and  there  he  stood  !  " 

"  It  would  not  be  a  bad  idea  for  him  to  conceal  his 
pedestal  about  him  and  mount  it  when  it  became  neces- 
sary for  him  to  remain  stationary,"  said  Arbuthnot,  flip- 
pantly, and  yet  with  a  momentary  gravity  in  his  eyes 
somewhat  at  variance  with  his  speech. 

She  went  on  as  if  he  had  not  spoken. 

w  It  was  certainly  a  curious  feeling,"  she  continued. 
n  Everything  came  to  me  in  a  flash.  I  suppose  I  am 
rather  a  light  and  frivolous  person,  no^  sufficiently  given 
to  reflecting  on  the  passage  of  time,  and  suddenly  there 
he  stood,  and  I  remembered  that  eight  years  had  gt>ne 
by,  and  that  everything  was  changed." 


44  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"A  great  many  things  can  happen  in  eight  years,* 
commented  Arbuthnot. 

"  A  great  many  things  have  happened  to  me,"  sho 
said.  "  Everything  has  happened  to  me  ! " 

"No,"  said  Arbuthnot,  in  a  low,  rather  reflective 
tone,  and  looking  as  he  spoke  not  at  her,  but  at  the  girl 
whose  white  dress  did  not  fit,  and  who  at  that  moment 
whirled  rather  breathlessly  by  the  door.  "  No  —  not 
everything." 

"  I  have  grown  from  a  child  to  a  woman,"  she  said. 
w  I  have  married,  I  have  arrived  at  maternal  dignity.  I 
don't  see  that  there  is  anything  else  that  could  happen 
—  at  least,  anything  comfortable." 

"  No,"  he  admitted.  "  I  don't  think  there  is  anything 
comfortable." 

"  Well,  it  is  very  certain  I  don't  want  to  try  anything 
uncomfortable,"  she  said.  w  *  Happy  the  people  whose 
annals  are  tiresome.'  Montesquieu  says  that,  and  it 
always  struck  me  as  meaning  something." 

"  I  hope  it  does  not  mean  that  you  consider  your  an- 
nals tiresome,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  How  that  girl  does 
dance  !  This  is  the  fifth  time  she  has  passed  the  door." 

"I  hope  her  partner  likes  it  as  much  as  she  does,'' 
remarked  Bertha.  "And  as  to  the  annals,  I  have  not 
found  them  tiresome  at  all,  thank  you.  As  we  happen 
to  have  come  to  retrospect,  I  think  I  may  say  that  I 
have  rather  enjoyed  myself,  on  the  whole.  I  have  had 
no  tremendous  emotions." 

"  On  which  you  may  congratulate  yourself,"  Arbuth- 
not put  in. 

"I  tlo,"  she  responded.  "I  know  I  should  not  have 
liked  them.  I  have  left  such  things  to  —  you,  for 
instance." 

Sho  said  this  with  a  little  air  of  civil  mocking  which 
was  by  no  means  unbecoming,  and  to  which  her  com- 
panion was  well  used. 

"Thank  you,"  he  replied,  amiably.  "You  showed 
consideration,  of  course  —  but  that's  your  way." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  45 

"I  may  not  have  lived  exactly  the  kind  of  life  I  used 
to  think  I  should  live  —  when  I  was  a  school-girl,"  she 
went  on,  smiling ;  "  but  who  does  ?  —  and  who  would 
want  to  when  she  attained  years  of  discretion  ?  And  I 
may  not  be  exactly  the  kind  of  person  I  —  meant  to 
be  ;  but  I  think  I  may  congratulate  you  on  that  —  and 
Richard.  You  would  never  have  been  the  radiant  creat- 
ures you  are  if  I  had  ripened  to  that  state  of  perfec- 
tion. You  could  not  have  borne  up  under  it." 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  took  his  arm. 

"No,"  she  said,  "I  am  not  the  kind  of  person  I 
meant  to  be,  and  Colonel  Tredennis  has  reminded  me 
of  the  fact  and  elevated  my  spirits.  Let  us  go  and  find 
him,  and  invite  him  to  dinner  to-morrow.  He  deserves 
it." 

As  they  passed  the  door  of  the  dancing-room  she 
paused  a  moment  to  look  in,  and  as  she  did  so  caught 
sight  of  the  girl  in  the  white  dress  once  more. 

"  She  is  not  tired  yet,"  she  said,  "  but  her  partner  is 
—  and  so  am  I.  If  Richard  has  come,  I  think  I  shall 
go  home." 


46  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TREDENNIS  dined  with  them  the  next  day,  and  many 
days  afterward.  On  meeting  him  Richard  Amory  had 
taken  one  of  his  rather  numerous  enthusiastic  fancies  to 
him,  and  in  pursuit  and  indulgence  of  this  fancy  could 
not  see  enough  of  him.  These  fanciful  friendships  were 
the  delights  of  his  life,  and  he  never  denied  himself 
one,  though  occasionally  they  wore  themselves  out  in 
time  to  give  place  to  others. 

Tredennis  found  him  as  the  professor  had  described 
him,  "  a  bright  fellow,  and  a  handsome  fellow."  He 
had  thought  that  when  he  came  forward  to  introduce 
himself,  as  he  had  done  at  the  Gardners'  reception,  he 
had  never  seen  a  brighter  or  more  attractive  human 
being.  He  had  a  dark,  delicate,  eager  face,  soft,  waving 
hair,  tossed  lightly  back  from  a  forehead  whose  beauty 
was  almost  feminine ;  a  slight,  lithe  figure,  and  an  air 
of  youth  and  alertness  which  would  have  been  attraction 
enough  in  itself.  He  was  interested  in  everything : 
each  subject  touched  upon  seeming  to  awaken  him  to 
enthusiasm, — the  Indians,  the  settlers,  the  agencies,  the 
fort  life, — equally  interested  in  each,  and  equally  ready 
to  confront,  in  the  most  delightfully  sanguine  mood,  the 
problems  each  suggested. 

"  It  is  worth  a  great  deal  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
judge  of  these  things  from  the  inside,"  he  said.  "There 
arc  a  thousand  questions  I  want  to  ask ;  but  we  shall  see 
you  often,  of  course.  We  must  see  you  often.  It  will 
be  the  greatest  pleasure  to  us." 

His  first  entrance  into  their  house,  the  following  even- 
ing, was  something  which  always  set  itself  apart  in  Tre- 
dennis' memory. 

A  gay  burst  of  laughter  greeted  him  as  the  parloi 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  47 

door  was  thrown  open,  —  laughter  so  gay  that  the  first 
announcement  of  his  name  was  drowned  by  it,  and,  as 
he  paused  for  a  moment,  he  had  the  opportunity  to  taue 
in  fully  the  picture  before  him.  The  room  was  a  pretty 
and  luxurious  one,  its  prettiness  and  luxury  wearing 
the  air  of  being  the  result  of  natural  growth,  and  sug- 
gesting no  oppressiveness  of  upholstery.  Its  comforts 
were  evidently  the  outcome  of  the  fancies  and  desires  of 
tho39  who  lounged,  or  read,  or  talked  in  it,  and  its 
knick-knacks  and  follies  were  all  indicative  of  some 
charming  whim  carried  out  with  a  delightful  freedom 
from  reason,  which  was  their  own  excuse. 

In  the  open  fireplace  a  bright  wood-fire  burned,  and 
upon  the  white  wolf-skin  before  it  Richard  Amory  lay 
at  unconventional  full  length,  with  his  hands  clasped 
lightly  under  his  head,  evidently  enjoying  to  the  utmost 
the  ease  of  his  position,  the  glow  of  the  fire,  and  the 
jest  of  the  moment,  while  near  him,  in  an  easy-chair, 
sat  Arbuthnot.  Both  of  them  looked  at  Bertha,  who 
stood  with  one  hand  resting  on  the  low  mantel. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  a  long  time,"  Tredennis 
heard  her  say,  and  then,  as  the  servant  announced  his 
name  again,  she  stopped  speaking,  and  came  forward  to 
meet  him,  while  Richard  sprang  lightly  to  his  feet. 

"I  will  tell  you  at  the  outset,"  she  said,  "that  it  is 
not  one  of  the  time-honored  customs  of  Washington  for 
people  to  receive  their  guests  with  this  ingenuous  and 
untrammelled  freedom,  but"  — 

"  But  she  has  been  telling  us  a  story,"  put  in  Richard, 
shaking  hands  with  him  ;  "  and  she  told  it  so  well  that 
we  forgot  the  time.  And  she  must  tell  it  again." 

wlt  is  not  worth  telling  again,"  she  said,  as  they  re« 
turned  to  the  fire ;  r~  and,  besides,  I  told  it  to  you  in  the 
strictest  confidence.  And  if  that  is  not  reason  enough, 
I  don't  mind  confessing  that  it  is  a  story  which  doesn't 
exhibit  me  in  an  amiible  light.  It  shews  a  temper  and 
viciousness  that  you  count  among  your  home  comforts, 


48  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  dont  feel  it  decent  to  display  for  the  benefit  of  any 
one  but  your  immediate  relatives." 

Tredennis  looked  down  at  her  curiously.  His  first 
glance  at  her  had  shown  him  that  to-night  she  was  even 
farther  removed  from  his  past  than  she  had  seemed  be- 
fore. Her  rich  dress  showed  flashes  of  bright  color,  her 
eyes  were  alight  with  some  touch  of  excitement,  and 
her  little  wrists  were  covered  with  pretty  barbarities  of 
bangles  and  charms  which  jingled  as  she  moved. 

w  I  should  like  to  hear  the  story,"  he  said. 

"It  is  a  very  good  story,"  commented  Arbuthnot, 
laughing ;  "  I  think  I  would  tell  it  over  again." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Richard ;  "  Colonel  Tredennis  must 
hear  it." 

Bertha  looked  across  at  Tredennis,  and  as  she  did  so 
he  saw  in  her  eyes  what  he  had  seen  the  night  before 
and  had  not  understood,  but  which  dawned  upon  him 
now,  —  a  slight  smiling  defiance  of  his  thoughts,  whatso- 
ever they  might  be. 

w  You  won't  like  it,"  she  said  ;  "  but  you  shall  hear  it, 
if  you  wish.  It  is  about  a  great  lady  "  — 

"  That  will  add  to  the  interest,"  said  Tredennis.  "  You 
have  great  ladies  in  Washington  ?  " 

"  It  is  infinitely  to  our  credit  that  they  are  only  oc- 
casional incidents,"  she  answered,  "and  that  they  don't 
often  last  long.  When  one  considers  the  number  of  quiet, 
domesticated  women  who  find  themselves  launched  sud- 
denly, by  some  wave  of  chance,  into  the  whirl  of  public 
life,  one  naturally  wonders  that  we  are  not  afflicted  with 
some  very  great  ladies  indeed ;  but  it  must  be  confessed 
we  have  far  less  to  complain  of  in  that  respect  than 
might  be  expected." 

"But  this  particular  great  lady ? "  said  Tredennis. 

"Is  one  of  the  occasional  incidents.  Some  one  said 
that  our  society  was  led  by  bewildered  Europeans  and 
astonished  Americans,  —  Americans  astonished  to  find 
themselves  suddenly  bearing  the  responsibility  of  the 
highest  positions,  and  Europeans  bew\luered  I  y  being 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  49 

(tilled  upon  to  adjust  themselves  to  startling  novelties  in 
manners  and  customs.  This  great  lady  is  one  of  the 
astonished  Americans,  and,  privately,  she  is  very  much 
astonished,  indeed." 

Arbuthnot  laughed. 

"You  will  observe,"  he  commented,  "that  Mrs. 
Amory's  remarks  are  entirely  unbiassed  by  any  feminine 
prejudices." 

"You  will  observe,"  said  Bertha,  "that  Mr.  Arbuth 
not's  remarks  are  entirely  unbiassed  by  any  prejudice  in 
favor  of  my  reliability  of  statement.     But,"  she  added, 
with  a  delusive  air  of  amiable  candor,  "  I  am  sure  you 
cannot  deny  that  I  was  very  civil  to  her." 

"I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it,"  responded  Arbuthnot. 
"And  I  don't  mind  adding  that  I  should  like  to  have 
been  there  to  see." 

"  Colonel  Tredennis  shall  judge,"  she  said,  "  whether 
It  would  have  been  really  worth  while.  I  will  make  the 
story  brief.  Last  season  the  great  lady  gave  me  cause 
to  remember  her.  We  had  not  met,  and,  to  please  a 
friend,  I  called  upon  her.  We  found  her  in  her  draw- 
ing-room, engaged  in  entertaining  two  new  newly  ar- 
rived attaches.  They  seemed  to  interest  her.  I  regret 
to  say  that  we  did  not.  She  did  not  hear  our  names 
when  the  servant  announced  them,  and  the  insignificance 
of  our  general  bearing  was  against  us.  I  think  it  must 
have  been  that,  for  we  were  comparatively  well  dressed 
—  at  least,  Miss  Jessup's  description  of  our  costumes  in 
the  '  Wabash  Times '  gave  that  impression  the  following 
week.  Perhaps  we  looked  timid  and  unaccustomed  to 
'the  luxurious  trophies  from  many  climes  '  (Miss  Jesstip 
again)  surrounding  us.  The  ingenuous  modesty  of  ox- 
treme  youth  which  you  may  have  observed  "  — 

"Repeatedly,"  replied  Arbuthnot. 

"Thank  you.  But  I  suppose  it  told  against  me  on 
this  occasion.  Our  resjr  ectable  attire  and  air  of  general 
worthiness  availed  nothing.  The  great  lady  rose,  stared 
at  us,  gave  us  her  finger-ends,  called  us  by  names  wbich 


50  THR3UGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

did  not  belong  to  us,  and  sat  down  again,  turning  hei 
back  upon  us  with  much  frankness,  and  resuming  hei 
conversation  with  the  attaches,  not  interrupting  it  to 
address  six  words  to  us  during  the  three  minutes  w« 
remained.  That  is  the  first  half  of  the  story." 

"It  promises  well  for  the  second  half,"  said  Tre- 
dennis. 

w  The  second  is  my  half,"  said  Bertha.  "  Later,  she 
discovered  our  real  names,  and  the  fact  that  —  shall  I 
say  that  Miss  Jessup  knew  them,  and  thought  them 
worthy  of  mention  in  the  'Wabash  Times'?  That 
would,  perhaps,  be  a  good  way  of  putting  it.  Then 
she  called,  but  did  not  see  me,  as  I  was  out.  We  did 
not  meet  again  until  this  afternoon.  I  was  making  the 
Cabinet  calls,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  encountering  her 
at  the  house  of  the  Secretary  of  War.  Perhaps  Miss 
Jessup  had  sent  her  a  copy  of  the  'Wabash  Times' 
yesterday,  with  the  society  column  marked  —  I  don't 
know.  But  she  was  pleased  to  approach  me.  I  re- 
ceived her  advances  with  the  mild  consideration  of  one 
who  sees  a  mistake  made,  but  is  prevented  by  an 
amiable  delicacy  from  correcting  it,  and  observing  this, 
she  was  led  into  the  indiscretion  of  saying,  with  grace- 
ful leniency,  that  she  feared  I  did  not  know  her.  I 
think  it  is  really  there  that  my  half  begins.  I  smiled 
with  flattering  incredulity,  and  said,  'That  would  be 
very  strange  in  a  Washingtonian.' 
'  When  you  called'  —  she  began. 

"I  looked  at  her  with  a  blush,  as  of  slight  embar- 
rassment, which  seemed  to  listurb  her. 

'  You  have  not  forgotten  that  you  called  ? '  she  re- 
narked,  chillingly. 

"'It  would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to  forget 
anything  so  agreeable,'  I  said,  as  though  in  delicately 
eager  apology.  'I  am  most  unlucky.  It  was  soma 
more  fortunate  person.' 

"But,'  she  said,  f  I  returned  the  visit.' 

" '  I  received  your  card,'  I  replied,  smiling  ingenuously 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  51 

into  her  eyes,  'and  it  reminded  me  of  my  deii.quency. 
Of  course  I  knew  it  was  a  mistake.' 

"  And  after  I  had  smiled  into  her  eyes  for  a  second  oi 
so  longer,  she  began  to  understand,  and  I  think  by  this 
time  it  ie  quite  clear  to  her." 

"  There  must  be  a  moral  to  that,"  commented  Treden- 
nis. 

"There  is,"  she  responded,  with  serene  readiness. 
"A  useful  one.  It  is  this:  It  is  always  safe  —  in 
Washington  —  to  be  civil  to  the  respectably  clad.  If 
the  exigencies  of  public  position  demand  that  you  re- 
ceive, not  the  people  you  wish  to  see,  or  the  people  who 
wish  to  see  you,  but  the  respectably  clad,  it  is  well  to 
deal  in  glittering  generalities  of  good  manners,  and  even 

—  if  you  choose  to  go  so  far  —  good  feeling.     There  are 
numbers  of  socially  besieged  women  in  Washington  who 
actually  put  the  good  feeling  first ;  but  the  Government 
cannot  insist  on  that,  you  know,  so  it  remains  a  matter 
of  taste." 

"  If  you  could  draw  the  line  "  —  began  Richard. 
"There  is  no  line,"  said  Bertha,  "so  you  can't  draw 
it.     And  it  was  not  myself  I  avenged  this  afternoon,  but 

—  the  respectably  clad." 

"And  before  she  became  an  astonished  American," 
put  in  Arbuthnot, "  this  mistaken  person  was  possibly" — 

Bertha  interposed,  with  a  pretty  gesture  which  set  all 
the  bangles  jingling. 

w  Ah,"  she  said,  "  but  we  have  so  little  to  do  with  that, 
that  I  have  not  even  the  pleasure  of  using  it  in  my 
arguments  against  her.  The  only  thing  to  be  reasonably 
required  of  her  now  is  that  she  should  be  sufficiently 
well-mannered  during  her  career.  She  might  assume 
her  deportment  with  her  position,  and  dispose  of  it  at  a 
sacrifice  afterward.  Imagine  what  a  field  in  the  way  of 
advertisement,  for  instance  :  '  For  sale.  A  neatly  fitting 
suit  of  good  manners.  Used  through  one  Administration. 
Somewhat  worn  through  active  service,  but  still  equa 
to  much  wear  and  tea**.' " 


52  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

That  which  struck  Tredennis  more  forcibly  than  all 
else  was  her  habit  of  treating  everything  lightly,  and 
he  observed  that  it  was  a  habit  Arbuthnot  shared  with 
her.  The  intimacy  existing  between  the  two  seemed  an 
unusual  one,  and  appeared  to  have  established  itself 
through  slow  and  gradual  growth.  It  had  no  ephemera] 
air,  and  bore  somehow  the  impress  of  their  having 
shared  their  experiences  in  common  for  some  time.  Be- 
neath the  very  derision  which  marked  their  treatment  of 
each  other  was  a  suggestion  of  unmistakable  good  fel- 
lowship and  quick  appreciation  of  each  other's  moods. 
When  Bertha  made  a  fanciful  speech,  Arbuthnot's  laugh 
rang  out  even  before  Richard's,  which  certainly  was 
ready  enough  in  response  ;  and  when  Arbuthnot  vouch- 
safed a  semi-serious  remark,  Bertha  gave  him  an  un- 
divided attention  which  expressed  her  belief  that  what 
he  said  would  be  worth  listening  to.  Amory's  province 
it  seemed  to  be  to  delight  in  both  of  them,  —  to  admire 
their  readiness,  to  applaud  their  jests,  and  to  encourage 
them  to  display  their  powers.  That  he  admired  Arbuth- 
not immensely  was  no  less  evident  than  that  no  gift  or 
grace  of  Bertha's  was  lost  upon  him. 

His  light-hearted,  inconsequent  enjoyment  of  the 
pleasure  of  the  moment  impressed  Tredennis  singu- 
larly. He  was  so  ready  to  be  moved  by  any  passing 
zephyr  of  sentiment  or  emotion,  and  so  entirely  and 
sweet-temperedly  free  from  any  fatiguing  effect  when 
the  breeze  had  once  swept  over  him. 

"  All  that  I  have  to  complain  of  in  you  two  people," 
he  said,  gayly,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  "  is  that  you 
have  no  sentiment  —  none  whatever." 

"  We  are  full  of  it,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "  both  of  us,  — 
but  we  conceal  it,  and  we  feel  that  it  makes  us  interest- 
ing. Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  repressed  emotion. 
The  appearance  of  sardonic  coldness  and  stoicism  whhh 
has  deceived  you  is  but  a  hollow  mockery ;  beneath  it 
I  secrete  a  maelstrom  of  impassioned  feeling  ani  a 
mausoleum  of  blighted  hopes." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  53 

"  There  is  a  fashion  in  emotions  as  in  everything  else,' 
said  Bertha.  "And  sentiment  is  'out.'  So  is  stateli- 
ness.  Who  would  submit  to  stateliness  in  these  days? 
It  was  the  highest  aim  of  our  great-grandmothers  to  be 
stately;  but  stateliness  went  out  with  ruffles  and  Ihe 
minuet,  and  a  certain  kind  of  Roman  nose  you  find  in 
all  portraits  taken  in  the  reigns  of  the  Georges.  Now 
we  are  sprightly.  It  is  imperative  that  we  should  be 
sprightly.  I  hope  you  are  prepared  to  be  sprightly, 
Colonel  Tredennis." 

He  was  very  conscious  of  not  looking  so.  In  fact, 
the  idea  was  growing  upon  him  that  upon  the  whole  his 
grave  face  and  large  figure  were  rather  out  of  place 
among  all  this  airy  badinage.  His  predominant  feeling 
was  that  h>s  unfortunate  tendency  to  seriousness  and 
silence  was  not  a  Washingtonian  quality,  and  augured 
poorly  for  his  future.  Here  were  people  who  could 
treat  lightly,  not  only  their  subjects,  but  themselves 
and  each  other.  The  fire-lit  room,  with  its  trifles  and 
knick-knacks  and  oddities  ;  the  graceful,  easy  figure  of 
Richard  Amory  lounging  idly  in  his  chair ;  Bertha,  with 
her  bright  dress  and  fantastic  little  ornaments  flashing 
and  jingling ;  Arbuthnot  smiling  faintly,  and  touching 
his  mustache  with  a  long,  fair  hand,  —  each  and  all 
suggested  to  him  in  some  whimsical,  vague  fashion  that 
he  was  too  large  and  not  pliable  enough  for  his  sur- 
loundings,  and  that  if  he  moved  he  might  upset  some- 
thing, or  tread  upon  some  sparkling,  not  too  substantial 
theory . 

w  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  as  well  prepared  as  I  might 
be,"  he  answered.  "Do  you  always  find  it  easy?" 

"I !  "  she  returned.  "  Oh,  perfectly  !  it  is  only  Mr. 
A  rbuthnot  who  finds  it  difficult  —  being  a  prey  to  his 
feelings.  In  his  moments  of  deep  mental  anguish  the 
spiightliness  which  society  demands  of  him  is  a  thing 
from  which  his  soul  recoils." 

Shortly  after  dinner  Aibuthnot  went  away.  He  had 
t  final  call  to  make  upon  some  friends  who  were  going 


54  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

away,  after  having  taken  an  active  part  in  the  inaugura. 
ceremonies  and  ball.  It  appeared  that  they  had  coma 
from  the  West,  with  the  laudable  intention  of  making  the 
most  of  these  festivities,  and  that  he  had  felt  it  his  duty 
to  do  his  utmost  for  their  entertainment. 

WI  hope  they  enjoyed  themselves,"  said  Bertha,  as  he 
stood  making  his  adieus. 

"Well,"  was  his  reply,  "it  strikes  me  they  did.  I 
took  them  to  the  Treasury,  and  the  Patent  Office,  aad 
the  Army  and  Navy  Department,  and  up  into  the  dome 
of  the  Capitol,  and  into  the  Senate  and  the  House,  and 
they  heard  the  inaugural  address,  and  danced  at  the 
ball,  and  saw  the  ex-President  and  bought  photographs 
of  the  new  one,  and  tired  themselves  out,  and  are  going 
home  a  party  of  total  wrecks,  but  without  a  thing  on 
their  consciences ;  so  I  think  they  must  have  enjoyed 
themselves.  I  hope  so.  I  didn't.  I  don't  grudge  them 
anything;  but  it  is  the  ninetieth  time  I  have  been 
through  the  Treasury,  and  the  twentieth  time  I  have 
climbed  to  the  dome,  and  the  exercise  has  lost  its 
freshness." 

After  he  had  left  the  room  he  returned,  drawing 
from  the  pocket  of  his  rather  dandyfied  light  overcoat 
three  small  packages,  which  he  laid  on  a  side-table. 

"This  is  for  Janey,  and  this  for  Jack,  and  this  for 
Marjorie,"  he  said.  "I  told  them  they  would  find 
them  there  in  the  morning." 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Bertha,  as  if  the  proceeding 
was  one  to  which  she  was  well  accustomed. 

When  he  was  fairly  gone  Richard  Amory  broke 
into  a  half  laugh. 

w  What  a  queer  fellow  he  is  I  "  he  said. 

Bertha  returned  to  her  place  by  the  fire,  taking  from 
the  mantel  a  little  screen  of  peacock  feathers  and  shad- 
ing her  face  with  it. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  he  rarely  leaves  the 
house  without  one  of  us  making  that  remark,  and  yet  ii 
tlways  has  an  illusive  air  of  being  entirely  new." 


'    THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  55 

"Well,"  remarked  Richard,  "he  is  a  queer  fellow, 
and  there's  no  denying  it.  Imagine  a  fellow  like  that 
coolly  rambling  about  with  neat  packages  of  bonbons  in 
his  fastidious  overcoat  pocket,  to  be  bestowed  on  chil- 
dren without  any  particular  claim  on  him.  Why  does  he 
doit?" 

"  It  doesn't  exactly  arise  from  enthusiasm  awakened 
by  their  infant  charms,"  said  Bertha,  "  and  he  never  pro- 
fessed that  it  did." 

"  But  he  must  care  for  them  a  little,"  returned  Richard. 

"The  fact  is  that  you  don't  know  what  he  cares  for," 
said  Bertha,  "  and  it  is  rather  one  of  his  fascinations.  I 
suppose  that  is  really  what  we  mean  by  saying  he  is  a 
queer  fellow." 

"At  all  events,"  said  Richard,  amiably,  "he  is  a  nice 
fellow,  and  one  can  manage  to  subsist  on  that.  All  I 
complain  of  is  that  he  hasn't  any  object.  A  man  ought 
to  have  an  object  —  two  or  three,  if  he  likes." 

"He  doesn't  like,"  said  Bertha,  "for  he  certainly 
hasn't  an  object  —  though,  alter  all,  that  belongs  to  his 
mode  of  life." 

"I  should  like,"  said  Tredennis,  "to  know  something 
of  the  mode  of  life  of  a  man  who  hasn't  an  object." 

"  You  will  gain  a  good  deal  of  information  on  the  sub- 
ject if  you  remain  long  in  Washington,"  answered  Ber- 
tha. "  We  generally  have  either  too  many  objects  or 
none  at  all.  If  it  is  not  your  object  to  get  into  the 
White  House,  or  the  Cabinet,  or  somewhere  else,  it  is 
probably  your  fate  to  be  installed  in  a  *  department  r* 
and,  as  you  cannot  hope  to  retain  your  position  through 
any  particular  circumspectness  or  fitness  for  it,  you  have 
not  any  object  left  you." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Richard,  "it  would  have  been  a 
great  deal  better  for  Larry  if  he  had  stayed  where  he  was 
and  fought  it  out." 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Bertha,  "it  would  be  a  great  deal 
better  for  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  rest  if  they  stayed  where 
they  were.  And  when  Larry  came  he  d;d  not  come 


56  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

under  specially  exhilarating  circumstances,  and  just  then 
I  suppose  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  rest  of  his  life  was 
not  worth  much  to  him." 

"It  has  struck  me,"  said  Richard,  reflectively,  "that 
be  had  a  blow  of  some  sort  about  that  time,  —  something 
apart  from  the  loss  of  his  fortune.  I  am  not  sure  but 
that  I  once  heard  some  wandering  rumor  of  there  being 
a  young  woman  somewhere  "  — 

"  Oh ! "  said  Bertha,  in  a  low,  rather  hurried  voice, 
"  he  had  a  blow.  There  is  no  mistake  about  that,  — he 
had  a  blow,  and  there  was  a  good  deal  in  him  that  did 
not  survive  it." 

"  And  yet  he  doesn't  strike  you  as  being  that  sort  of 
fellow,"  said  Richard,  still  in  reflection.  "  You  wouldn't 
think  of  him  as  being  a  fellow  with  a  grief." 

Bertha  broke  into  delighted  laughter. 

"A  grief !"  she  exclaimed.  "That  is  very  good.  I 
wish  he  had  heard  it.  A  grief!  I  wonder  what  he 
would  do  with  it  in  his  moments  of  recreation,  —  at  re- 
ceptions, for  instance,  and  musicales,  and  germans.  He 
might  conceal  it  in  his  opera  hat,  but  I  am  afraid  it 
would  be  in  the  way.  Poor  Larry  !  Griefs  are  as  much 
out  of  fashion  as  stateliness,  and  he  not  only  couldn't  in- 
dulge in  one  if  he  would,  but  he  wouldn't  if  he  could." 

"  Well,  how  would  you  put  it,"  said  Richard,  "  if  you 
did  not  call  it  a  grief?" 

Bertha  laughed  again. 

"  If  I  put  it  at  all,"  she  answered,  "  I  would  say  that 
he  had  once  been  very  uncomfortable,  but  had  discreetly 
devoted  himself  to  getting  over  it,  and  had  succeeded 
decently  well ;  and  last,  but  not  least,  I  would  add  that 
it  would  be  decidedly  difficult  to  make  him  uncomfort- 
able again." 

Tredennis  found  it  impossible  to  avoid  watching  her 
with  grave  interest  each  time  she  spoke  or  moved.  Ho 
was  watching  her  now  with  a  sort  of  aside  sensibility 
to  her  bright  drapery,  her  flashing,  tinkling  wrists,  and 
her  screen  of  peacock  feathers. 


•   THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  57 

*  She  is  very  light,"  he  was  saying  inwardly. 
She  turned  to  him  with  a  smile. 

" Would  he  strike  you  as  'a  fellow  with  a  grief1:  ' 
she  inquired. 

"  No,"  he  answered  ;  "  I  cannot  say  he  would." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  that  is  certain  enough.  If  you 
went  away  and  never  saw  him  again,  you  would  remem- 
ber just  this  of  him  —  if  you  remembered  him  at  all : 
that  his  clothes  fitted  him  well,  that  he  had  an  agreeable 
laugh,  that  he  had  a  civil  air  of  giving  you  his  attention 
when  you  spoke,  and  —  nothing  else." 

"'  And  that  is  not  all  there  is  of  him  ? "  Tredennis 
asked. 

She  looked  down  at  her  feather  screen,  still  smiling 
slightly. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  rather  slowly,  "  not  quite  all ; 
but  even  I  don't  quite  know  how  much  more  there  is, 
and  Richard,  who  has  known  him  at  intervals  all  his 
life,  lapses  into  speaking  of  him  as  *  a  fellow  with  a 
grief.'" 

Eichard  rose  from  his  chair. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  with  much  cheerfulness,  "there  is  no 
denjdng  thgi  you  two  are  the  outgrowth  of  an  effete 
civilization.  You  are  always  arriving  at  logical  deduc- 
tions concerning  each  other,  and  you  have  a  tendency 
to  the  derision  of  all  the  softer  emotions.  You  are  a 
couple  of  world-worn  creatures,  and  it  is  left  to  me  to 
represent  the  youth  and  ardor  of  the  family." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Bertha,  in  her  soft,  mocking 
voice.  "  We  are  battered  and  worldly  wise  —  and  we 
have  no  object." 

"But  I  have,"  said  Richard,  "and  if  Colonel  Treden- 
nis will  come  upstairs  with  me,  I  will  show  him  what 
a  few  of  them  are,  if  he  takes  an  interest  in  such 
things." 

"What,"  said  Bertha,  — "  the  laboratory,  or  the  library, 
or"  — 

*  All  of  them,"  he  answered,  w  including  the  new  col- 


58  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

lection."     And  he  turned  upon  Tredennis  the  brightest 
imaginable  smile. 

Tredennis  left  his  chair  in  response  to  it. 

"I  am  interested  in  all  collections,  more  or  less,"  he 
said. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Bertha  —  "  more  or  less."  And  the  y 
went  out  of  the  room  with  this  little  gibe  in  their  ears. 

Before  the  conclusion  of  his  visit  to  the  domains  up- 
stairs Tredennis  bad  learned  a  great  deal  of  Richard 
Amory.  He  had  found  that  he  had  a  taste  for  mechan- 
ics, a  taste  for  science,  a  taste  for  literature.  He  had  a 
geological  cabinet,  an  entomological  collection,  a  collec- 
tion of  coins,  of  old  books,  of  old  engravings,  all  in 
different  stages  of  incompleteness.  He  had,  even,  in 
his  small  workroom,  the  unfinished  models  of  an  inven- 
tion or  two,  each  of  which  he  was  ready  to  explain  with 
an  enthusiasm  which  flamed  up  as  the  demands  of  the 
moment  required,  in  the  most  delightful  and  inspiring 
manner. 

"I  shall  finish  them  all,  one  of  these  days,"  he  said, 
blithely.  "  I  am  always  interested  in  one  or  the  other, 
and  they  give  me  an  object.  And,  as  I  said  down- 
stairs, what  a  man  wants  is  an  object.  That  is  what 
Larry  stands  in  need  of.  Give  him  an  object,  and  he 
would  not  indulge  in  that  cold-blooded  introspection 
and  retrospection.  Bertha  has  told  him  so  herself." 

"They  are  very  good  friends,"  said  Tredennis. 

w  Oh,  yes  !  They  are  fond  of  each  other,  in  their 
way.  It  is  their  way  to  jeer  a  good  deal,  but  they 
would  stand  by  each  other,  I  fancy,  if  the  time  came 
when  it  was  needful." 

He  referred,  in  the  course  of  the  conversation,  to  his 
profession,  and  his  reference  to  it  caused  Tredennis  to 
class  it  in  his  mind,  in  some  way  or  other,  with  the  un 
finished  models  and  incomplete  collections. 

w  I  can't  say  I  like  the  law,"  he  said,  "  but  it  was  a 
tfort  of  final  resource.  I  tried  medicine  for  a  while, — 
took  a  course  of  lectures ;  but  it  didn't  suit  me.  And 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  59 

two  or  three  other  things  turned  up,  but  I  didn't 
seem  to  suit  them.  And  so  it  ended  in  my  choosing 
law,  or  letting  it  choose  me.  I  don't  know  that  I  am 
exactly  a  success  at  it.  It's  well  we  don't  depend  on  it. 
Bertha" —  He  broke  off  rather  suddenly,  and  began 
again  at  once.  "I  have  plans  which,  if  they  are  as  suc- 
cessful as  they  promise  to  be,  will  change  the  aspect  of 
affairs."  And  he  laughed  exultantly. 

On  their  way  downstairs  they  came  upon  an  open 
door,  which  had  been  closed  as  they  went  up.  It  opened 
into  a  large,  cheerful  room,  with  gay  pictures  on  the 
walls,  and  a  high  brass  fender  guarding  the  glowing  fire, 
before  which  a  figure  sat  in  a  low  rocking-chair,  holding 
a  child  in  its  arms. 

"That  is  the  nursery,"  said  Richard.  "Bertha,  what 
is  the  matter  with  Janey  ?  " 

It  was  Bertha  who  sat  in  the  rocking-chair,  and  as 
she  turned  her  face  quietly  toward  them  Tredennis  felt 
himself  betrayed  into  a  slight  start.  Neither  her  eye? 
nor  her  color  were  as  bright  as  they  had  been  down- 
stairs. She  had  taken  off  her  ornaments,  and  they  lay 
in  a  small  glittering  heap  upon  the  stand  at  her  side. 
The  child's  head  rested  upon  her  breast,  and  her  bare 
arm  and  hand  held  its  body  in  an  easy  position  with  a 
light,  close,  accustomed  touch.  She  spoke  in  a  soft, 
lowered  voice. 

"Janey  is  nervous  to-night,"  she  answered.  "She 
cannot  go  to  sleep,  and  I  am  trying  to  quiet  her.  Will 
you  excuse  me  if  I  do  n  )t  come  down  ?  She  really  needs 
me." 


60  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHEN  Tredenriis  found  himself  standing  out  in  th« 
street,  half  an  hour  later,  it  was  this  picture  which 
remained  in  his  mind,  and  no  other.  If  an  effort  had 
been  required  to  retain  the  impression  upon  his  mental 
retina  he  would  have  made  the  effort  with  the  deliber- 
ate intention  of  excluding  all  else ;  but  no  effort  was 
needed. 

"I  suppose  it  is  sentiment,"  he  said,  taking  his  cigar 
out  of  his  mouth,  and  looking  up  at  the  starlit  sky.  "  I 
have  no  doubt  it  is  sentiment.  A  man  who  has  lived 
mooning  alone  as  long  as  I  have,  drifts  in  that  direction 
naturally,  I  suppose.  And  I  am  a  rigid,  old-fashioned 
fellow.  I  don't  fit  in  with  the  rest  of  it.  But,  with 
her  child  in  her  arms  and  her  gewgaws  laid  on  the 
table,  I  seemed  to  see  something  I  knew.  I'll  think  of 
that,  and  not  of  the  other." 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  he  caught  sight  of  a 
figure  approaching  him  from  a  distance  of  a  few  yards. 
It  was  the  figure  of  a  man,  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  and 
walking  with  bent  head  at  a  leisurely  pace,  which 
argued  that  he  was  deep  in  meditation.  As  it  drew 
nearer  Tredennis  recognized  something  familiar  in  its 
outlines,  and  before  it  had  taken  half-a-dozen  steps 
forward  the  head  was  raised  suddenly,  almost  as  if 
attracted  by  something  in  his  gaze,  and  he  recognized 
the  professor,  who,  seeing  him,  came  toward  him  at 
once,  and  laid  a  friendly  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"You  are  coming  away  from  the  house,  are  you?" 
he  said.  "  I  might  have  known  I  should  have  the 
chance  of  meeting  you  when  I  came  out  to  take  my 
ramble  before  going  to  bed.  I  do  it  every  night.  I 
find  I  sleep  better  for  it.  Perhaps  Bertha  told  you." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  61 

*  No,"  answered  Tredennis  ;  "  I  had  not  been  told  of  it.* 

The  professor  gave  him  a  little  impetus  forward  with 
the  hand  he  still  kept  on  his  shoulder. 

"Walk  on  with  me,"  he  said.  "What  I  like  is  the 
deserted  look  of  things,  and  the  silence.  There  is 
nothing  more  silent  and  deserted  than  such  a  street  as 
tliis  at  night.  There  is  a  quiet  and  emptiness  about  it 
which  impress  themselves  on  you  more  than  the  still- 
ness of  a  desert.  Perhaps  it  is  the  sleep  around  you  in 
the  houses,  —  the  people  who  have  lost  their  hold  on 
the  world  and  life  for  the  time  being.  They  are  far 
enough  away  by  this  time,  most  of  them,  and  we  are  no 
more  certain  where  they  are  than  we  shall  be  after  they 
have  lain  down  for  the  last  time.  How  did  you  find 
Bertha?" 

His  voice  changed  as  he  asked  the  question,  dropping 
its  key  somewhat;  and,  quiet  though  its  tone  was, 
Tredennis  thought  he  recognized  a  faint  suggestion  of 
consciousness  in  it. 

"She  looked  very  well,"  he  answered;  "and  was 
very  bright." 

"  She  is  generally  that,"  said  the  professor.  w  Who 
was  there?" 

"A  Mr.  Arbuthnot." 

"  Arbuthnot !  Yes ;  to  be  sure.  He  generally  is 
there.  He  is  a  relative  of  Richard's.  They  are  fond 
of  him.  I  was  to  have  been  there  myself,  but  I  had  a 
previous  engagement.  And  I  suppose  they  made  light 
of  each  other,  as  usual?" 

"  You  mean  "  —  began  Tredennis. 

"Arbuthnot  and  Bertha.  They  always  do  it,  and 
Richard  looks  on  and  enjoys  it.  He  is  a  queer 
fellow." 

"Mr.  Amory?"  Tredennis  questioned,  uncertainly. 

"No,  no  ;  Arbuthnot.  He  is  a  queer  fellow,  Arbuth- 
not." 

Tredennis  laughed. 

"That  is  what  they  said  in  the  house,"  he  responded, 


62  THROUGH   O*"E   ADMINISTRATION. 

"Well,  it's  true,"  said  the  professor,  reflectively, 
*  and  there  is  no  denying  it." 

"They  said  that,  too,"  said  Tredennis.  "And  Mrs. 
Amory  added  that  it  was  a  habit  they  had." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  professor,  still  keeping  his 
hand  on  Tredennis'  shoulder,  and  seeming  to  study  the 
pavement  as  he  walked,  —  "I  don't  know  what  the  man 
has  done  with  his  past,  and  I  don't  know  what  he  is 
going  to  do  with  his  future.  I  don't  think  he  knows 
about  the  future  himself." 

"It  struck  me,"  said  Tredennis,  —  "I  don't  know 
why,  —  that  he  did  not  care." 

" That's  it,"  said  the  professor.     "He  doesn't  care." 

They  walked  a  few  steps  in  silence,  and  then  he  went  on  : 

w  He  never  will  care,"  he  said,  "  unless  something 
happens  to  rouse  him." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  confess,"  said  Tredennis,  "  that  I  am 
afraid  I  am  prepared  to  underrate  him.  And  it  seemed 
to  me  that  there  wasn't  much  in  him  to  rouse." 

"  Oh,  you'll  underrate  him,"  returned  the  professor, 
"  at  first.  And  you  may  never  get  over  it ;  but  there 
are  also  ten  chances  to  one  that  you  do.  I  did." 

'f  You  began  by  underrating  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  overrate  him  now,"  said  the  professor.  "  I 
don't  know  that  I  am  particularly  fond  of  him,  though 
there  have  been  moments  —  just  moments  —  when  I 
have  been  threatened  with  it.  But  I  have  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  there  is  something  in  him  to  rouse,  and 
that  it  wouldn't  be  the  wisest  thing  in  the  world  to 
rouse  it." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  said  Tredennis,  slowly,  "  that  it 
would  take  a  woman  to  rouse  it  ?  " 

"Yes,"  8ns',rered«the  professor,  just  as  slowly,  "it 
would  take  a,  woman.  And  there  are  circumstances 
under  which  it  vrould  be  better  for  the  woman  if  she  let 
what  she  might  rouse  lie  and  sleep." 

"  For  instance?"  said  Tredennis,  with  a  fierce  leap  o/ 
every  pulse  in  his  body. 


THKOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  63 

"  If,"  said  the  professor,  deliberately,  —  "  ii  she  were 
not  free  to  give  what  his  feeling  for  her  demanded." 

He  paused  to  turn  Tredennis  round. 

"  Confound  him  ! "  he  said,  with  a  curiously  irritable 
seriousness.  "  If  he  once  reached  a  white  heat,  —  that 
fellow  with  his  objectless  follies,  and  his  dress-coat,  and 
his  white  necktie,  and  his  opera  hat  under  his  arm,  — 
if  he  once  forgot  them  and  himself,  it  would  be  her  fate 
to  remember  him  as  long  as  her  life  should  last." 

"  Her  fate?"  said  Tredennis. 

"  I  said  it  would  have  to  be  a  woman,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. "  I  should  not  like  it  to  be  a  woman  I  felt  an 
interest  in.  We  have  reached  the  end  of  the  block. 
Let  us  walk  back  again." 

When  he  spoke  again  it  was  of  Richard  Arnory,  not 
of  Arbuthnot. 

"  You  went  upstairs  into  the  Museum,  as  Bertha  calls 
it?"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Tredennis ;  '  and  into  the  work- 
room." 

"  And  saw  the  models,  and  the  collections,  and  the 
books?" 

«  Yes." 

"  He  has  a  good  many  enthusiasms,  Richard, "said  the 
professor.  "  They  might  form  a  collection  of  them- 
selves. He  won't  tire  of  life  easily.  He  is  a  fine  con- 
trast to  —  the  other." 

They  were  nearing  the  house  again  by  this  time,  and 
he  glanced  up  at  its  front. 

"There  is  a  light  in  the  nursery  window,"  he  said. 
*  It  must  be  one  of  Janey's  restless  nights." 

"Yes,"  said  Tredennis.  "Mrs.  Amory  was  with  her 
when  we  came  downstairs,  and  she  told  us  that  the 
child  was  nervous  and  needed  her." 

"  She  has  wonderful  patience  with  them,"  said  the 
professor,  "  and  a  sort  of  genius  for  understanding  their 
vague  young  needs  and  desires.  She  never  does  them 
an  injustice  for  want  of  thought,  and  never  fails  them. 


64  THROUGH   ONI",    ALmllNISl  RATION. 

I  have  seen  her  spend  half  an  hour  half-kneeling,  half* 
sitting  on  the  nursery  floor,  by  one  of  them,  with  hei 
arm  round  it,  questioning  it,  and  helping  it  to  tell  ita 
own  story,  in  a  way  that  was  very  motherly.  There  ia 
a  great  deal  of  the  maternal  instinct  in  her." 

Tredennis  made  no  reply,  but  there  rose  before  hia 
mental  vision  the  picture  before  the  nursery  fire,  and  b« 
saw  again  the  soft,  close  clasp  of  the  fair  hand  and  arm. 

"It's  curious  how  seldom  we  speak  of  paternal  in- 
stinct," the  professor  went  on.  "It  is  always  maternal 
instinct.  Well,  it  is  a  great  thing.  And  it  is  a  great 
safeguard  where  —  where  life  is  not  satisfactory.  Anc\ 
as  one  grows  older  one  sees  a  good  deal  of  that.  It  it 
pitiful  sometimes,  when  one  finds  it,  as  one  so  often 
does,  in  young  things  who  haven't  got  over  their  desper- 
ate mental  insistence  on  their  right  to  be  happy." 

He  checked  himself  with  a  faint  laugh. 

"I'm  prosing,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "I  always  do  it 
when  I  take  my  saunter  at  night.  It  is  a  sort  of  safe- 
guard against  doing  it  in  the  day.  And  I  find  I  am 
specially  given  to  it  when  I  talk  of  Bertha.  It  is  the 
paternal  instinct,  if  there  is  such  a  thing.  You  remem- 
ber how  we  talked  of  her  when  she  came  home  from 
school.  Do  you  find  her  much  changed?" 

"She  has  changed  from  a  girl  —  a  child,  almost  —  to 
a  woman 5"  said  Tredennis. 

"Yes,"  said  the  professor,  "from  a  child  to  a  woman. 
And  yet,  when  you  look  back  upon  it,  eight  years  is  a 
very  short  time.  Sometimes  it  seems  only  yesterday 
that  the  startled  me  at  the  dinner-table  by  saying  that 
she  expected  me  to  classify  and  label  her." 

"There  have  been  times,"  said  Tredennis,  "when  it 
deemed  only  yesterday  to  me  ;  but  to-night  it  is  some- 
thing far  away." 

The  professor  looked  up  at  him  quickly. 

"Is  it?"  he  said.  "Well,  well,"  rather  vaguely,  "it 
is  a  habit  they  have  fallen  into,  that  of  making  light 
of  things.  It  is  a  kind  of  fashion  nowadays.  She  did 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  65 

uot  treat  things  lightly  then,  did  Bhe?  How  she  be- 
lieved all  that  she  believed — how  frankly  she  impugned 
your  veracity  in  argument,  without  being  at  all  con- 
scious of  the  incivility  !  How  bright  her  eyes  and  lips 
were  when  she  asked  me  if  she  could  not  have  the  label 
without  the  pin  !  I  wish  "  — 

He  stopped  suddenly  once  more. 

"  We  have  reached  the  end  of  the  block  again,  my 
boy,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  walked  long  enough,  and 
talked  long  enough.  We  must  say  good-night  to  each 
other." 

They  were  standing  beneath  a  street-lamp,  and  hav- 
ing looked  up  at  Tredennis  to  say  this,  he  drew  back  a 
pace  to  look  again,  in  whimsically  gentle  admiration  of 
hi«  stalwart  proportions. 

"  What  a  soldierly  fellow  you  are  !  "  he  said ;  "  and 
how  you  stand  out  among  the  rest  of  us  !  "  And  then, 
with  an  odd  change  of  manner,  he  drew  nearer,  and 
laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder  once  more.  "I'll  say 
again,"  he  said,  "what  I  have  said  before.  I  wish  you 
had  been  a  son  of  mine,  my  boy." 

And,  as  he  said  it,  there  fell  upon  the  quiet  of  the 
street  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps  ringing  on  the 
pavement,  and,  turning  instinctively  toward  them, 
each  saw  an  easily  recognized  masculine  figure,  which, 
reaching  the  house  in  which  the  Amorys  lived,  paused 
for  a  moment  beneath  the  lighted  window,  and  flung 
forth  to  the  night,  airily,  and  by  no  means  unmusically, 
a  few  bars  of  one  of  the  popular  airs  from  a  gay  French 
opera,  and  then,  crossing  the  street,  applied  a  latch-key 
to  the  door  of  the  opposite  house,  and,  entering,  closed  it. 

"The  fellow  has  a  pleasant  voice,"  said  the  professor 
"  It  is  a  voice  you  like  to  hear.  And  that  is  one  of  hia 
whims." 

"I  thought  I  recognized  Ine  figure,"  said  Tredenoi* 
'It  is"— 

"  Arbuthnot,"  said  the  professor.     "  Arbuthnot." 

And  then  they  parted. 


66  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

To  Tredennis  the  next  three  months  were  full  of 
event.  It  was  rucstly  quiet  event,  and  yet,  as  day  fol- 
lowed day,  he  was  conscious  that,  in  each  twenty-lbui 
hours,  he  lived  through  some  new  mental  experience 
which  left  its  mark  upon  him.  The  first  two  weeks 
seemed  to  make  his  old  regular,  routine-governed  life  a 
thing  of  the  far  past,  from  which  he  was  entirely  sep- 
arated by  a  gulf  which  it  would  be  impossible  to 
recross.  He  awakened  to  a  recognition  of  this  at  the 
end  of  the  second  week,  and  told  himself  that  the  feel- 
ing was  due  to  the  complete  novelty  of  his  surroundings 
and  their  natural  influences  upon  him.  He  found  him- 
self placed  among  people  whose  lives,  ambitions,  and 
interests  were  all  new  to  him,  and  of  a  kind  with  which 
he  had  never  before  been  thrown  into  close  contact  for 
a  length  of  time  sufficient  to  allow  of  analysis.  In  his 
first  visit  to  Washington  he  had  regarded  its  peculiar- 
ities merely  as  an  amateur  and  a  visitor ;  now  he  saw 
and  studied  them  from  a  different  stand-point.  The 
public  buildings  were  no  longer  mere  edifices  in  his 
eyes,  but  developed  into  tremendous  communities,  regu- 
lated by  a  tremendous  system  for  which  there  could 
be  no  medium  or  indefinite  standing,  but  which  must 
either  be  a  tremendous  credit  or  a  tremendous  discredit 
to  itself  and  the  power  it  represented.  The  human  side 
of  the  place  grew  and  impressed  itself  upon  him.  He 
began  to  feel  the  full  significance  of  the  stream  of  human- 
ity which  ebbed  and  flowed  to  and  from  these  buildings 
at  stated  hours  in  the  day.  After  a  few  afternoon  walks 
on  the  Avenue  he  could  recognize  many  a  face  that 
passed  him,  and  comprehend  something  of  what  it 
typified.  He  could  single  out  the  young  woman  who 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  67 

supported  her  family  upon  her  salary,  and  the  young 
woman  who  bought  her  ribbons  with  it ;  the  wido\t 
whose  pay  fed  half-a-dozen  children,  and  the  husband 
whose  earnings  were  appropriated  by  a  wife  of  fashion- 
able aspirations ;  the  man  of  broken  career,  whose 
wasted  ambitions  and  frustrated  purposes  were  buried 
in  the  monotonous  routine  of  a  Government  clerkship, 
and  who  asked  and  hoped  for  no  greater  boon  than  to 
be  permitted  to  hold  his  place  through  as  much  of  the 
future  as  remained  to  him.  It  was  an  orderly  and  re- 
spectably dressed  crowd,  as  a  rule ;  but  there  was  many 
a  sad  face  to  be  seen  in  it,  and  many  an  anxious  and  dis- 
appointed one.  It  never  failed  to  interest  Tredennis, 
and  he  took  his  afternoon  walk  so  often  at  the  same 
hour  that  the  passers-by  began  to  know  his  tall,  soldierly 
figure  and  sunbrowned  face,  and  rather  expected  to  en- 
counter them ;  and  when  the  newspapers  had  referred 
to  him  on  a  dozen  occasions  or  so,  there  were  not  a  few 
who  recognized  him,  and  pointed  him  out  to  each  other 
as  something  of  a  celebrity  and  a  hero,  and  so  worth 
seeing. 

This  general  knowledge  which  people  seemed  to  have 
of  one  another  was  one  thing  which  struck  him  as  pecu- 
liarly local.  It  was  the  rule,  and  not  the  exception, 
that  in  walking  out  he  met  persons  he  knew  or  knew  of, 
and  he  found  it  at  no  time  difficult  to  discover  the  names 
and  positions  of  those  who  attracted  his  attention. 
Almost  all  noticeable  and  numerous  unnoticeable  persons 
were  to  be  distinguished  in  some  way  from  their  fellows. 
The  dark,  sinewy  man  he  observed  standing  on  the 
steps  of  a  certain  family  hotel  was  a  noted  New  Eng- 
land senator ;  his  companion  was  the  head  of  an  impor- 
tant department ;  the  man  who  stood  near  was  the  pri- 
vate secretary  of  the  President,  or  the  editor  of  one  of 
the  dailies,  or  a  man  with  a  much-discussed  claim  against 
the  Government ;  the  handsome  woman  whose  carriage 
drew  up  before  a  fashionable  millinery  establishment 
the  wife  of  a  foreign  diplomat,  or  of  a  well-known 


68  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

politician,  or  of  a  member  of  the  Cabinet ;  the  woiiiaa 
who  crossed  her  path  as  she  got  out  was  a  celebrated 
female  suffragist,  or  female  physician,  or  lawyer,  or 
perhaps  that  much-talked  of  will-o'-the-wisp,  a  female 
lobbyist ;  and  eight  persons  out  of  every  ten  passing 
them  knew  their  names  and  not  a  little  of  their  private 
history.  So  much  was  crowded  within  a  comparatively 
limited  radius  that  it  was  not  easy  for  any  person  or 
thing  worthy  of  note  to  be  lost  or  hidden  from  the  pufe 
lie  eye. 

By  the  most  natural  gradations  Tredennis  found  the 
whole  tenor  of  his  existence  changed  in  this  atmosphere. 
His  fixed  habits  of  life  gave  way  before  the  influences 
surrounding  him. 

One  of  the  most  subtle  of  these  influences  was  that  of 
his  intimacy  with  the  members  of  the  Amory  household, 
which  grew  as  he  had  not  at  all  anticipated  that  it 
would.  He  had  thought  of  the  acquaintance  in  the  first 
place  as  one  not  likely  to  ripen  into  anything  beyond 
its  rather  conventional  significance.  Perhaps,  on  the 
whole,  he  had  been  content  to  let  it  rest  as  it  was, 
feeling  only  half-consciously  that  he  should  be  in  a 
quieter  frame  of  mind  and  less  liable  to  vague  pangs  and 
disappointments. 

"It  is  all  different,"  he  had  said  to  himself.  "And 
it  is  all  over.  It  is  better  that  it  should  remain  as  it 
is." 

But  after  his  first  visit  Richard  did  not  choose  to 
lose  sight  of  him.  It  was  his  fancy  to  seek  him  out  and 
make  much  of  and  take  possession  of  him,  with  an  amia- 
bility and  frank  persistence  in  the  chase  which  were  at 
once  complimentary  and  engaging. 

"  Look  here  I "  he  would  say,  having  followed  him  up 
to  reproach  him.  '*  You  don't  suppose  we  intend  to  be 
treated  in  this  manner?  We  won't  hear  of  it.  We 
want  you.  Your  stalwart  solidity  is  what  we  have  been 
needing  to  give  us  weight  and  balance.  Only  yester- 
day Bertha  was  holding  you  up  to  Arbuthnot  as  a  mode) 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  6S 

of  steadfastness  of  purpose.  We  thought  we  were 
going  to  see  you  every  other  day,  at  least,  and  you 
have  not  been  near  us  for  a  week.  Bertha  wonders 
what  we  have  been  guilty  of." 

And  then  he  would  be  carried  up  to  luncheon  or  dinner, 
or  to  spend  the  evening ;  and  each  visit  resulted  in 
another  and  another,  until  it  gradually  became  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  that  he  should  drop  in  at  odd 
hours,  because  it  seemed  that  he  was  always  expected, 
and  he  appeared  to  have  a  place  among  them. 

"  Do  you  know  what  we  shall  do  with  you  if  you 
remain  here  a  year?"  Bertha  had  said  to  him  at  the 
outset.  "We  shall  domesticate  you.  We  not  only 
domesticated  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  but  we  appropriated  him. 
We  feel  that  we  have  invested  largely  in  him,  and  that 
he  ought  to  respect  our  rights  and  pay  interest.  Some- 
times I  wonder  how  he  likes  it,  and  just  now  it  occurs 
to  me  to  wonder  how  you  would  like  it." 

"The  question  is,"  Tredennis  answered,  "how  you 
would  like  it." 

He  was  always  conscious  of  a  silent  distaste  for 
being  compared  to  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  and  he  was  also 
always  conscious  of  the  youthful  weakness  of  the 
feeling. 

"  It  is  the  kind  of  thing  which  belongs  to  a  younger 
man,"  he  used  to  say  to  himself.  "It  is  arrant  folly ; 
and  yet  I  am  not  fond  of  the  fellow." 

But,  as  Bertha  had  predicted,  he  became  in  a  manner 
domesticated  in  the  household  Perhaps  the  truth  was 
that  his  natural  tendency  was  toward  the  comfort  and 
easy  communion  of  home-life.  He  was  a  little  surprised 
to  find  himself  develop  a  strong  fancy  for  children.  lie 
had  never  been  averse  to  them,  but  he  had  known  noth- 
ing of  them,  and  had  never  suspected  himself  of  any 
definite  disposition  to  fondness  for  them.  After  he  hud 
watched  Bertha's  during  a  few  visits  he  began  to  like 
them,  and  to  be  oddly  interested  in  their  sayings  and 
doings.  He  discovered  Jack  to  be  a  decidedly  sturdy 


70  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  masculine  little  fellow,  with  rather  more  than  hia 
share  of  physical  strength  and  beauty ;  and,  making 
amicable  advances  toward  him,  was  met  half-way  with 
a  fearless  readiness  which  was  very  attractive.  Then 
he  made  friends  with  Janey,  and  found  himself  still 
more  interested.  Her  childish  femininity  was  even  bet- 
ter worth  studying  than  Jack's  miniature  manhood.  She 
was  a  small,  gentle  creature,  with  clinging  hands  and 
much  faith,  but  also  with  a  delightful  sense  of  infantile 
dignity,  and  the  friendship  which  established  itself  be- 
tween them  was  a  very  absorbing  sentiment.  It  was 
not  long  before  it  became  an  understood  thing  among 
the  juvenile  portion  of  the  establishment  that  Tredennis 
was  to  be  counted  among  the  spoils.  His  incoming  was 
greeted  with  rapture,  his  outgoing  was  regarded  as  a 
species  of  calamity  only  to  be  borne  because  it  was  un- 
avoidable. He  could  tell  stories  of  Indians  and  bears, 
and  on  more  than  one  occasion  was  decoyed  into  the 
nursery,  and  found  to  be  not  entirely  without  resources 
in  the  matter  of  building  forts  with  blocks,  and  defend- 
ing them  against  aboriginal  warriors  with  tin  soldiers. 
His  own  sense  of  enjoyment  of  the  discovery  of  these 
accomplishments  in  himself  filled  him  with  a  whimsical 
pleasure.  He  began  to  carry  toys  in  his  pockets,  and 
became  a  connoisseur  of  such  dainties  as  were  considered 
harmless  to  the  juvenile  constitution  ;  and  after  having 
been  reproved  by  Janey,  on  two  or  three  occasions,  for 
the  severity  of  his  air,  he  began  also  to  have  a  care  that 
the  expression  of  his  countenance  should  be  less  serious 
and  more  likely  to  win  the  approval  of  innocent  small 
creatures,  who  considered  gravity  uncalled  for  and  mys- 
terious. At  first  ne  had  seemed  to  learn  but  little  of 
Bertha  herself,  notwithstanding  that  a  day  seldom  passed 
without  their  meeting,  and  there  were  times  when  bo 
£mcied  he  had  determined  that  there  was  but  little  to 
learn.  The  gayeties  of  the  season  over,  she  announced 
her  intention  of  resting ;  and  her  manner  of  accomplish- 
ing this  end  was  to  inaugurate  a  series  of  small  feativi- 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  71 

ties,  with  a  result  of  occupying  each  day  until  midnight , 
She  gave  small,  informal  dinners,  suppers,  and  teas  to 
the  favored  few  who  would  be  most  likely  to  enjoy  and 
find  them  exhilarating,  and,  when  she  did  not  give  a  din- 
ner or  tea,  her  evenings  were  bestowed  upon  Arbuthnot 
and  half  a  dozen  of  the  inner  circle,  whose  habit  it  was 
to  drop  in  and  talk  politics,  literature,  or  entertaining 
nonsense. 

At  such  times  it  was  not  at  all  unusual  for  the  pro- 
fossor  to  ramble  in  at  about  nine  o'clock,  and  profess  to 
partake  of  the  cup  of  tea  Bertha  offered  him,  and  which 
he  invariably  left  more  than  half  full  upon  the  small 
table  by  his  chair.  His  old  tender  interest  in  her  had 
not  leseoned  in  degree,  Tredennis  noticed,  after  seeing 
them  together  on  two  or  three  occasions,  but  it  had  al- 
tered in  kind.  Sometimes  the  look  of  curious  specula- 
tion returned  to  his  eyes,  but  oftener  they  expressed  a 
patient,  kindly  watchfulness.  It  was  not  long  before 
Tredennis  began  to  observe  that  this  quietly  watchful 
look  generally  showed  itself  when  Arbuthnot  was  present. 
The  first  time  that  he  felt  the  full  force  of  the  truth  of 
this  was  one  evening  when  there  had  been  only  two  or 
three  callers,  who  had  remained  but  a  short  time,  going 
away  early,  and  leaving  no  one  in  the  parlors  but  him- 
self, the  professor,  and  Arbuthnot. 

Arbuthnot  had  come  in  later  than  usual,  and  had  ap- 
peared to  be  in  an  unusual  mood.  He  was  pale  when  he 
entered,  and  had  no  jesting  speech  to  make.  He  took 
his  seat  by  Bertha,  and  replied  to  her  remarks  with  but 
little  of  his  customary  animation,  now  and  then  lapsing 
into  silence  as  if  he  had  forgotten  his  surroundings. 
Bertha  seemed  inclined  to  let  his  humor  pass  without 
notice,  as  if  it  was  not  exactly  a  new  experience  ;  but 
Richard  commented  upcn  it. 

"  Something  has  gone  vrong,"  he  said.  "  What  is  it, 
Larry?" 

"  Nothing  has  gone  wrong,"  Arbuthnot  answered,  with 
A  short,  cheerless  laugh.  "I  have  seen  a  ghost,  that  is  all." 


72  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  A  ghost !  *  said  Bertha,  in  a  low  voice>  and  then  sat 
silent,  guarding  her  face  from  the  fire  with  her  favorite 
peacock-feather  screen. 

The  professor  began  to  stir  his  tea  round  and  round, 
which  exercise  was  his  customary  assistance  to  reflec- 
tion or  debato.  He  glanced  at  the  peacock-feather 
screen,  and  then  at  Arbuthnot. 

WA  ghost  is  always  an  interesting  scientific  conun- 
drum," he  observed."  "  What  form  did  it  take  ?  " 

Arbuthnot  laughed  his  short,  cheerless  laugh  again. 

"  It  took  the  form  of  a  sanguine  young  man  from  the 
West,'*  he  said,  "who  has  just  come  into  a  twelve- 
hundred-dollar  clerkship,  and  feels  that  unending  vistas 
of  fortune  lie  before  him.  He  was  in  such  good  spirits 
about  it  that  I  rather  lost  my  hold  on  myself,  and  said 
things  I  might  as  well  have  left  unsaid." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  Richard  asked. 

"  I  told  him  that  if  he  had  money  enough  left  to  buy 
a  return  ticket  home  he  had  better  buy  one  ;  and  that,  if 
he  had  not,  I  would  lend  it  to  him.  I  told  him  that  at 
his  age  it  wasn't  a  bad  idea  for  a  man  to  devote  his  time 
to  establishing  himself  in  some  career  he  could  depend 
on  ;  and  that,  in  default  of  having  the  energy  to  do  that, 
he  might  reflect  on  the  alternative  of  blowing  his  brains 
out  as  a  preparation  fora  peaceful  old  age.  And  I  told 
him  that  I  had  seen  young  fellows  like  himself  before,  and 
that  the  end  had  been  for  them  what  it  would  be  for  him." 

"  Well?"  said  Richard,  as  he  had  stopped. 

"  It  wasn't  any  use,"  he  answered.  "  I  knew  it  would 
n  >t  be  when  I  began.  I  simply  made  a  spectacle  of 
myself  in  a  quiet  way  to  no  purpose,  and  as  a  result  1 
am  uncomfortable.  It  was  all  nonsense,  but  he  re- 
minded me  "  — 

"Of  what?"  said  Richard,  since  he  had  paused 
again. 

A  peculiar  expression  crossed  his  face.  Tredennis 
saw  him  glance  at  the  peacock-feather  screen,  and  aft 
quickly  glance  away. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  73 

''Of — a  young  fellow  of  his  age  I  —  used  to  know," 
he  answered. 

"What  was  his  story?"  inquired  Richard,  with  his 
usual  desire  for  information.  "Where  is  he  now?" 

"Dead,"  said  Arbuthnot;  and,  singularly  enough,  'le 
half  laughed  again  as  he  tossed  his  cigar  into  the  grate 
and  went  to  the  piano. 

He  began  to  sing  in  a  rather  low  voice,  and  while  he 
sang  the  rest  listened.  When  he  referred  to  his  musi 
cal  efforts  it  was  his  habit  to  treat  them  as  but  trivial 
performances  ;  but  he  allowed  them  to  lose  none  of  their 
effectiveness  through  lack  of  care  and  culture.  He 
knew  wherein  his  power  lay,  and  used  it  well.  To- 
night, for  some  reason,  this  power  was  at  its  strongest, 
and,  as  he  sang  song  after  song,  even  Tredennis  was 
compelled  to  acknowledge  that,  if  it  was  his  object  to 
produce  an  emotional  effect,  he  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
succeed. 

Richard  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa  and  gave  himself 
up  to  him  with  characteristic  readiness  to  be  moved, 
the  professor  stirred  his  tea  slowly  and  mechanically, 
and  Bertha  sat  still  in  the  shadow  of  her  screen.  But 
it  was  she  who  moved  first.  In  the  midst  of  one  of  the 
songs  she  left  her  seat,  slowly  crossed  the  room  to  the 
piano,  and  stood  near  it,  leaning  against  the  dark  wall, 
her  slight  white  figure  thrown  into  strong  relief,  her 
hands  —  one  of  them  still  holding  the  peacock-feather 
screen  —  fallen  at  her  sides,  her  eyes  resting  on  Arbuth- 
not's  averted  face.  It  seemed  to  Tredennis  that  she 
had  moved  in  obedience  to  some  impulse  of  whose 
power  she  was  scarcely  conscious.  He  saw  that  sho 
also  was  pale,  and  looked  worn  with  fatigue,  and  he 
was  filled,  as  he  had  been  more  than  once  before,  \dth 
secret  resentment  of  the  fact  that  no  one  but  himself 
appeared  to  notice  that  she  had  changed  even  within 
the  last  month. 

Arbuthnot  continued  playing.  It  was  evident  that 
she  had  not  intended  to  distract  his  attention  when  she 


74  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

approached  him,  and  he  did  not  look  at  or  speak  to  her. 
As  she  stood  listening,  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  forge  tten 
everything  but  the  influence  his  voice  exerted  over  her 
for  ll.e  time  being,  and  that  she  allowed  it  to  carry  her 
whither  it  would.  Something  in  the  soft,  absorbed  ex- 
pression of  her  face  reminded  Tredennis  vaguely  of  the 
look  she  had  worn  when  she  turned  to  brood  over  his 
words  on  the  night  when  he  had  felt  nearest  to  her. 
He  was  thinking  this  when  a  movement  from  the  pro- 
fessor attracted  his  attention,  —  a  jingling  of  the  tea- 
spoon, a  little  crash,  an  exclamation  of  dismay  and 
confusion,  and  the  little  stand  had  mysteriously  been 
overturned,  and  the  professor  was  ruefully  bending 
down  to  pick  up  the  fragments  of  his  small  cup  and 
saucer. 

"  My  dear  child  ! "  he  said  to  Bertha,  who  had  started 
forward  to  his  rescue,  "what  a  stupid  old  Vandal  I  am, 
and  what  an  insecure  little  table  to  betray  me  with  — 
and  in  the  midst  of  Schubert's  '  Serenade,'  too,  which 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  was  giving  us  in  his  most  effective  man- 
ner !  Suppose  you  take  me  up  into  the  nursery,  as  an 
example  to  the  children,  while  you  dry  my  coat." 

He  went  out  of  the  room  with  her,  his  hand  upon  hei 
shoulder,  and  Arbuthnot  left  the  piano,  and  returned  to 
the  fire.  The  spell  had  been  broken  with  the  cup  and 
saucer,  and  the  "  Serenade  "  remained  unfinished.  He 
produced  a  fresh  cigar,  —  which  luxury  was  one  of 
many  accorded  him  in  the  household,  —  lighted  it,  and, 
rather  to  Tredennis'  surprise,  resumed  his  conversation 
as  if  there  had  been  no  pause  in  it. 

"  The  fellow  will  be  an  annoyance  to  me  every  day 
of  his  life,"  he  said,  faint  lines  showing  themselves  upon 
his  forehead  in  spite  of  the  half-smile  which  was  meant 
to  deprive  them  of  their  significance.  "I  know  that, 
confound  him  !  He  is  in  my  room,  and  I  shall  have  the 
benefit  of  every  change  in  him,  and  it  will  be  a  grind 
—  there's  no  denying  that  it  will  be  a  grind." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  75 

WI  should  like  to  know,"  said  Tredennis,  "  what  the 
changes  will  be."  if 

"The  changes  will  depend  upon  the  kind  of  fellow 
he  chances  to  be,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  There  are  two  va- 
rieties. If  there  is  a  good  deal  in  him  he  will  begin 
by  being  hopeful  and  working  hard.  He  will  think  that 
he  may  make  himself  of  value  in  his  position  and  create 
a  sort  of  career  for  himself.  He  will  do  more  than  is 
required  of  him,  and  neglect  nothing.  He  will  keep 
his  eyes  open  and  make  friends  of  the  men  about  him. 
He  will  do  that  for  a  few  months,  and  then,  suddenly, 
and  for  no  fault  whatever,  one  of  these  friends  will  be 
dropped  out.  Knowing  the  man  to  be  as  faithful  as 
himself,  it  will  be  a  shock  to  him,  and  he  will  get  anx- 
ious, and  worry  over  it.  He  will  see  him  stranded 
without  resources,  struggling  to  regain  his  place  or 
get  another,  treated  with  amiable  tolerance  when  he  is 
not  buffeted,  snubbed,  and  put  oif.  He  will  see  him  hang- 
ing about  day  after  day,  growing  shabbier,  more  care- 
worn, more  desperate,  until  he  disappears  and  is  heard 
of  no  more,  and  everybody  is  rather  relieved  than  not. 
He  may  have  been  a  family  man,  with  a  wife  and  half-a- 
dozen  children  all  living  decently  on  his  salary.  Some- 
body else  wanted  his  place  and  got  it,  not  because  of 
superior  fitness  for  it,  but  because  the  opposing  influ- 
ence was  stronger  than  his.  The  new  man  will  go 
through  the  same  experience  when  his  turn  comes  — 
that  is  all.  Well,  my  friend  will  see  this  and  be  anxious, 
and  ask  questions  and  find  out  that  his  chances  are  just 
the  same  —  no  more  and  no  less.  He  will  try  not  to 
believe  it,  being  young  enough  to  be  betrayed  into  the 
folly,  and  he  will  work  harder  than  ever,  and  get  over 
his  blow  a  little  until  he  sees  the  same  thing  happen 
again  and  again.  Then  he  will  begin  to  lose  some  of 
his  good  spirits ;  he  will  be  a  trifle  irritable  at  times, 
and  lines  will  show  themselves  on  his  face,  and  he  won't 
be  so  young.  When  he  writes  to  the  girl  he  is  in  love 
with,  —  I  saw  a  letter  addressed  to  some  young  woman 


76  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

out  West,  lying  on  his  dc&k  to-day,  —  she  will  notice  a 
change  in  him,  and  the  change  will  reveal  itself  more 
in  each  letter  ;  but  he  will  hang  on  and  grind  away,  and 
each  election  will  be  a  nightmare  to  him.  But  he  will 
grind  away.  And,  then,  at  last"  — 

He  stopped  and  made  a  light,  rather  graceful  gestura 
with  his  fingers. 

"What  then?"  demanded  Tredennis,  with  manifest 
impatience. 

"  There  will  be  a  new  administration,  and,  if  he  strug- 
gles through,  it  will  be  worse  for  him  than  if  he  were 
dropped,  as  in  that  case  he  throws  away  another  four 
years  of  his  life  and  all  the  chances  for  a  future  they 
might  hold  if  he  were  free  to  avail  himself  of  them." 

Tredennis  stood  up,  looking  very  large  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  feeling  which  disturbed  him.  Arbuthnot 
himself  was  not  entirely  unimpressed  by  his  quick  move- 
ment and  the  energy  it  expressed. 

"  You  treat  the  matter  coolly,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
rose. 

Arbuthnot  turned  his  attention  to  his  cigar. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "I  treat  it  coolly.  If  I  treated 
it  warmly  or  hotly  the  effect  produced  would  be  about 
the  same.  My  influence  upon  civil  service  is  just  what 
it  might  be  expected  to  be,  and  no  more.  Its  weight 
is  easily  carried." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tredenuis,  feeling  the 
justice  and  adroitness  of  the  speech. 

''Not  at  all,"  Arbuthnot  answered.  "It  is  not 
necessary.  It  makes  you  lose  your  hold  on  yourself 
to  be  brought  face  to  face  with  the  thing.  It  is  quite 
natural.  It  has  had  the  same  effect  on  me,  and  I  am  a 
cold-blooded  fellow,  and  a  frivolous  fellow  into  th« 
bargain." 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  the  matter  before,"  said 
Tredennis,  disturbedly.  "  I  feel  as  if  my  inlifference  is 
something  to  be  ashamed  of." 

"  If  you  give  your  attention  as  a  duty  to  such  subjects/ 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  7« 

wad  Arbuthnot's  response,  "you  will  be  kept  actively 
employed.  If  you  take  my  advice,  you  will  let  them 
alone." 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  Tredennis,  "that  every  one 
seems  to  let  them  alone." 

Richard  regarded  him,  from  his  place  on  the  sofa- 
cushions,  delightedly. 

"  Here's  an  example  for  you,  Larry,"  he  said.  "  Profit 
by  him.  Everything  is  an  object  to  him,  —  everything 
is  worth  while.  He  is  an  example  to  us  all.  Let  us  all 
profit  by  him." 

"  Oh,  he  began  right,"  laughed  Arbuthnot. 

"  He  began  where  you  began,"  returned  Richard. 

"I?"  was  the  airy  answer;  "I  never  began  at  all. 
That  is  my  little  difficulty.  I  am  the  other  one.  I  told 
you  there  was  another  one.  I  represent  him." 

Tredennis  regarded  him  steadily.  For  the  first  time 
in  the  course  of  their  aqcuaintance  he  began  to  suspect 
him.  His  manner  was  too  light  altogether,  and  the  odd 
shade  which  had  fallen  upon  his  eyes  before  during  the 
evening  showed  itself  again. 

"  Let  us  hear  about  the  other  one,"  he  said. 

"He  is  easily  disposed  of,"  was  the  answer.  "There 
was  nothing  of  him  at  the  outset.  He  came  to  his  place 
without  an  object.  He  liked  the  idea  of  living  in 
Washington,  and  of  spending  his  salary.  We  will  say 
he  was  a  rather  well-looking  young  fellow,  and  could 
dance  and  sing  a  little,  and  talk  decently  well.  He  had 
no  responsibilities,  and  never  thought  of  the  future. 
His  salary  clothed  him,  and  allowed  him  little  luxuries 
and  ordinary  pleasures.  He  spent  it  when  he  had  it, 
and  made  debts  when  it  was  gone.  Being  presentable, 
he  was  invited  out,  and  made  himself  useful  and  enter- 
taining in  a  small  way.  When  he  thought  of  the 
possibilities  of  his  career  being  brought  suddenly  to  a 
close,  he  was  uncomfortable,  so  he  preferred  not  to 
think  of  it.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  thing  to  reflect  that  a 
man  has  about  ten  years  in  which  to  begin  life,  and  that 


78  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

after  that  he  is  ending  it ;  but  it  is  true.  What  he  doos 
from  twenty  to  thirty  he  will  be  likely  to  find  he  must 
abide  by  from  thirty  to  seventy,  if  he  lives  that  long. 
This  man,  like  the  better  one,  has  thrown  away  the 
years  in  which  he  might  have  been  preparing  himself  to 
end  decently.  When  they  are  gone  he  has  nothing  to 
show  for  them,  and  less  than  nothing.  He  is  the  feather 
upon  the  current,  and  when  all  is  over  for  him  he  is 
whirled  out  of  sight  and  forgotten  with  the  rest.  And, 
perhaps,  if  he  had  felt  there  was  anything  to  be  gained 
by  his  being  a  steady,  respectable  fellow,  he  might  have 
settled  down  into  one." 

He  got  up  suddenly,  with  a  gesture  as  if  he  would 
shake  himself  free  of  his  mood. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "I'm  going  !  It  is  quite  time.  It's 
all  nonsense  talking  it  over.  It  is  the  old  story.  I  have 
made  myself  uncomfortable  for  nothing.  Confound  you, 
Dick,  why  did  you  let  me  begin?  Say  good-night  to 
the  professor  and  Mrs.  Amory  for  me." 

"Come  back!"  called  Richard.  "Bertha  will  want 
to  hear  the  rest  of  the  'Serenade'  when  she  comes 
down." 

"  The  '  Serenade  ' !  "  he  said,  derisively.  "  No,  thank 
you.  You  have  had  enough  of  me,  and  I  have  had  too 
much  of  myself." 

He  passed  into  the  hall  just  as  the  professor  descended 
from  the  nursery  and  through  the  open  door.  Tredennis 
heard  what  they  said  to  each  other. 

"You  did  not  finish  the  ' Serenade,'"  said  the  pro* 
fessor. 

"No,"  was  the  reply;  "and  I  am  afraid  you  wero 
resigned  to  it,  Professor." 

r  You  were  singing  it  very  well,  and  with  great  effect," 
the  professor  responded,  amicably. 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  say  so,"  Arbuthnot  answered. 
w  Good-night,  sir." 

"  Good-night,"  repliel  the  professor,  as  he  entered  thf 
parlor. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  7S 

As  he  did  so  Tredennis  heard  the  sound  of  feet  upon 
(he  stairs,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  Bertha's  white  figure 
as  she  came  down. 

*f  You  are  not  going  ?  "  he  heard  her  say. 

«  Yes." 

She  had  reached  the  last  step  by  this  time,  and  stood 
with  her  hand  resting  upon  the  balustrade,  and  she  was 
paler  than  she  had  been  before. 

« I  —  "  she  began  —  "I  wanted  to  talk  to  you.  What 
is  it,  Larry?" 

Tredennis  had  never  heard  her  call  him  by  his  first 
name  before  ;  and  he  felt,  with  a  keenness  which  startled 
him,  the  soft  naturalness  with  which  it  fell  from  her 
lips. 

Arbuthnot's  voice  itself  had  altered  when  he  answered 
her. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  he  said,  "  but  that  I  am  not  exactly 
in  a  presentable  humor,  and  I  want  to  go  and  conceal 
myself.  It  is  the  best  thing  I  can  do.  Good-night." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  touched  hers  lightly,  and  then 
turned  away,  and  the  door  opened  and  closed  after  him, 
and  Bertha  came  into  the  parlor,  mo  ring  slowly,  as  if 
she  felt  tired. 


8C  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  VTO. 

WHEN  Tredennis  rose  tc  take  his  leavo,  the  professol 
rose  also. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  he  said.  "  And  if  you  will,  you 
shall  give  me  a  few  minutes  of  your  time  before  going 
home.  I  have  some  new  books  to  show  you." 

They  went  out  together ;  but,  until  they  reached  the 
other  house  and  entered  the  library,  very  little  was  said. 
The  catastrophe  of  the  broken  teacup,  or  something  of 
greater  moment,  seemed  to  occupy  the  professor's 
thoughts.'  By  the  time  they  took  their  accustomed 
chairs  he  appeared  to  have  forgotten  the  new  books. 
His  thoughtful  face  wore  so  sadly  perplexed  a  look  that 
he  even  seemed  older  than  usual. 

Tredennis  awaited  his  first  words  in  silence.  His 
quiet  fondness  for  him  had  become  a  very  warm  and 
tender  feeling  during  the  past  months.  It  had  been  his 
pleasure  to  try  to  be  of  use  to  him.  He  had  studied  hi? 
needs,  and  endeavored  to  supply  them  ;  he  had  managed 
to  share  hours  with  him  which  might  otherwise  have 
been  lonely ;  he  had  brought  to  him  the  stir  of  the  out- 
side working  world  when  he  seemed  to  require  its  stimu- 
lant ;  he  had  placed  his  own  vigor  and  endurance  at  his 
disposal  without  seeming  to  do  so,  and  his  efforts  at 
making  his  rather  lonely  life  a  brighter  and  more  at- 
tractive thing  had  not  been  in  vain.  It  was  to  him  the 
professor  turned  in  his  moments  of  fatigue  and  neces- 
sity, and  it  was  to  him  he  turned  now. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  a  curious  thing,"  he  said.  —  "I 
am  going  to  do  a  curious  thing ;  but  I  think  it  is  the 
best  thing  and  the  simplest." 

*'  The  simplest  thing  is  always  the  best,"  said  Tre- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  81 

dennis,  moie  because  there  was  a  pause  than  because 
he  felt  an  answer  was  needed. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  the  professor,  seriously.  "I  think 
so.  And  it  is  easier  to  be  simple  with  you,  iny  boy, 
than  with  another  man.  It  is  your  way  to  be  direct 
and  serious.  You  always  had  the  habit.  It  never  was 
your  way  to  trifle.  It  is  rather  the  fashion  to  trifle  now- 
adays, you  know,  but  you,  —  1  have  always  liked  it  in 
you  that  you  were  not  a  trifler." 

"  No,"  answered  Tredennis  ;  M I  have  not  trifled  much. 
It  may  have  been  against  me.  Sometimes  I  have  thought 
it  was.  I  cannot  count  it  among  my  merits,  at  any  rate. 
I  am  a  grim  fellow  by  nature." 

"  No,"  said  the  professor.  "  Not  a  grim  fellow.  A 
silent  fellow,  and  rather  unyielding  with  yourself, 
but"  — 

He  stopped,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  simple  af- 
fection which  made  the  young  man's  heart  beat  as  a 
woman's  glance  might  have  done. 

"  I  think  you  know  I  love  you,"  he  said.  "  I  Lave 
begun  to  depend  on  you  and  count  you  among  my  lux- 
uries. I  am  an  old  man,  and  my  luxuries  are  wuith  a 
great  deal  to  me.  No  kindly,  thoughtful  act  of  yours 
has  been  unregarded,  and  I  have  liked  your  fancy  for 
me  almost  as  a  girl  likes  the  attentions  of  her  first  lover. 
Sometimes  it  has  pleased  me  to  be  half  sentimental  over 
them,  and  half  sentimental  over  you." 

Tredennis  flushed  with  pleasure  and  warm  feeling. 
He  rose  impulsively  and  crossed  the  hearth. 

"  I  never  say  things  well,"  he  said,  "  but  I  should  like 
to  try  to  put  into  words  something  of  what  I  feel.  You 
once  said  you  wished  I  was  your  son,  and  I  have  been 
glad  to  remember  it.  I  have  no  ties.  Let  your  wish 
be  a  sort  of  tie  between  us.  It  is  a  tie  I  should  be  pioud 
of,  and  glad  to  honor  and  make  an  object  in  my  life. 
Give  me  what  affection  you  can.  I  wish  for  it  and  need 
it.  If  I  had  been  your  son  you  would  have  counted  on 
me ;  g'n  e  me  the  pleasure  and  comfort  of  knowing  you 


82  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

count  on  me  now.  It  has  somehow  seemed  my  lot  to 
ha\e  no  place  in  the  lives  of  others.  Give  me  this,  if  1 
am  worth  it.  I  shall  be  better  for  it,  and  happier." 

The  professor  gave  him  a  quiet,  half-wistful  glance. 

"  I  gave  it  to  you  long  ago,"  he  said,  at  length.  w  The 
wish  has  been  a  tie  between  us  from  the  first." 

And  he  said  it  even  with  a  touch  of  solemnity. 

w  If  it  had  not  been,"  he  added,  afterward,  w  I  should 
not  have  come  to  you  with  my  trouble  to-night,  —  feel- 
ing so  sure  that  you  would  understand  it." 

He  made  a  gesture  with  his  hand. 

"  Go  and  walk  up  and  down  the  room  there,  as  I  am 
used  to  seeing  you,"  he  said.  "  And  I  will  tell  you 
about  it." 

Tredennis  did  as  he  bade  him, — went  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room  and  began  his  measured  march. 

"We  talked  of  Bertha  in  this  very  room  years  ago/' 
he  began.  "It  seems  to  be  our  lot  to  talk  of  Bertha.  I 
am  going  to  speak  of  her  again." 

Tredennis  continued  his  measured  tramp  without 
speaking. 

The  professor  rested  his  forehead  upon  his  hand  and 
sat  so,  looking  downward.  He  went  on  in  a  quiet  voice, 
and  with  a  quiet,  absorbed  manner,  —  the  manner  of  a 
man  who,  having  the  habit  of  close  and  careful  study, 
was  giving  his  whole  attention  simply  and  carefully  to 
his  subject. 

'*  I  shall  have  to  go  back  to  that  night  and  repeat 
something  1  said  then,"  he  went  on.  "It  was  that  her 
only  hope  for  happiness  would  lie  in  her  marriage  with 
a  man  she  loved  deeply." 

w  I  remember  it,"  Tredennis  answered. 

"  And  I  added  that  the  chances  were  that,  instead; 
she  would  marry  the  man  who  loved  her." 

"  I  remember  that  too." 

The  professor  sighed  heavily  and  wearily. 

"The  chances  were  too  many,"  he  said.  "She  mar- 
ried the  man  who  loved  her." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  83 

Tredennis  had  marched  c  ne  length  of  the  room  before 
he  continued :  — 

"Tie  did  love  her,"  the  professor  said,  after  his  pause, 
"tempestuously — overwhelmingly.  Overwhelmingly  ie 
a  good  word  to  use.  He  overwhelmed  her  in  the  end 
At  first  she  liked  him ;  but  when  the  nature  of  his  feeling 
for  her  began  to  express  itsel  f,  it  is  my  impression  that  she 
felt  a  secret  fear  of  and  dislike  to  it.  She  tried  to  avoid 
him,  but  he  absolutely  refused  to  allow  it.  He  followed 
her,  and  was  picturesquely  wretched  before  her  eyes. 
There  is  no  denying  he  was  picturesque.  That  was  his 
strong  point.  He  was  picturesque  and  pathetic  —  and 
poetic.  She  was  only  a  girl,  and  she  was  tremendously 
at  a  disadvantage  before  him.  When  she  treated  him 
badly  he  bore  it  with  tender  patience,  and  he  devoted 
himself  to  her  with  a  faithfulness  which  might  have 
touched  a  heart  harder  and  more  experienced  than  hers 
was,  poor  child  !  Of  course  his  picturesque  unhappiness 
and  his  poetic  magnanimity  told ;  I  knew  they  would, 
and  they  did.  Reaction  set  in,  and  she  began  to  feel 
the  fascination  of  making  him  happy." 

He  stopped,  and  suddenly  lifted  his  head. 

"  My  boy,"  he  said,  "  one  of  the  most  damnable  things 
in  life  is  a  fascination  like  that  in  the  mind  of  a  generous, 
ignorant  creature  ! " 

He  dropped  his  head  again. 

"That  is  strong  language,"  he  said,  "and  I  don't  often 
use  strong  language.  I  —  don't  consider  it  gentlemanly, 
but  I  felt  strongly  at  the  moment,  and  the  word  iti 
expressive.  Well,  the  time  came  when,  in  a  moment 
when  her  mood  being  softer  and  more  sympathetic  than 
usual,  and  she  herself,  as  a  consequence,  at  a  greater 
disadvantage  than  ever, — she  committed  herself;  and 
then  it  was  all  over.  The  trouble  is,  that  the  experience 
c  ?  a  woman  of  forty  is  what  a  girl  needs  when  she  chooses 
her  husband  at  twenty,  and,  as  the  two  things  are  in- 
compatible, the  chances  aie  always  against  her.  Bertha 
had  the  faults  and  follies  that  I  told  you  go  to  make  a 


84  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

martyr.  When  she  had  made  her  mistake,  she  was 
strong  and  weak  enough  to  abide  by  it.  It  is  mostly 
imagination  in  matters  of  this  kind ;  it  was  imagination 
in  hers.  She  was  young  enough  to  believe  in  every- 
X  thing.  She  believed  that  if  she  broke  her  engagement 
she  would  break  Amory's  heart  and  ruin  his  life  for  him. 
There  was  no  danger  of  either  catastrophe,  but  they  were 
realities  to  her,  and  they  terrified  her.  Then  she  had 
never  been  touched  by  any  deeper  feeling  than  the  anx- 
ious tenderness  he  awakened  in  her.  She  had  not  been 
given  to  sentiments,  and,  lam  afraid,  nad  regarded  them 
rather  contemptuously  in  others.  She  had  no  conception 
of  a  feeling  stronger  than  herself,  and  held  curiously 
obstinate  and  lofty  views  of  the  conduct  of  women  who 
did  not  hold  their  emotions  neatly  in  check.  Her  girlish 
bigotry  was  touching  to  me  sometimes,  because  it  was 
so  thorough,  and  revealed  such  ignorance.  I  wish  — 
I  wish  I  could  hear  something  of  it  now  ! " 

Tredennis  had  reached  the  end  of  the  room.  He 
turned  sharply,  but  recovered  himself  and  said  nothing. 

"Lately,"  the  professor  added  slowly,  "  she  has  been 
more  silent  on  such  subjects  than  she  used  to  be." 

He  lifted  his  head  from  his  hand  and  looked  at  Tre- 
dennis again. 

w Philip,"  he  said,  "I  —  I  wish  to  heaven  chance  had 
sent  you  to  us  that  year." 

Tredennis  stopped  in  his  walk,  a  dark  and  rigid  fig- 
ure in  the  shadow. 

"  Had  sent  me  ?  "  he  said,  in  a  strained  voice.  "  Me  ! 
What  —  could  /  have  done  ?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  answered  the  professor ;  "  but  1 
solemnly  believe,  my  boy,  that  if  you  had  come,  you 
would  have  averted  an  evil." 

"Then,"  said  Tredennis,  "I  wish  to  God  I  had  I " 

I  say  it,"  said  the  professor,  "with  all  the  more  cei  • 
tainty,  remembering,  as  I  do,  one  day  when  she  wished 
for  you  herself." 

"  She  I "  said  Tredennis.     "  Bertha  ?  Bertha  ?  " 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  85 

"Yes,  Bertha  herself.  It  was  a  few  weeks  before 
her  marriage,  and  she  had  not  been  exactly  herself  for 
a  week  or  more.  One  evening  I  came  into  the  parlor 
and  found  the  room  full  of  the  odor  of  flowers.  Amory 
had  been  with  her  and  had  left  her  a  bouquet  of  helio- 
trope. She  had  some  on  her  knee  as  she  sat  on  a  low 
seat  before  the  fire.  When  I  seated  myself  near  her, 
she  looked  up  at  me  suddenly  and  said,  in  a  rather  un- 
steady voice,  'Papa,  I  have  been  thinking  about  Philip 
Tredennis.  I  have  not  thought  of  him  for  a  long  time. 
I  should  like  to  see  him.  I  —  wish  he  could  come 
back.'  She  half  laughed  at  herself  as  she  said  it,  but 
her  laugh  was  nervous,  and  when  1  said  to  her,  'Why? 
Were  you  great  friends?  I  did  not  know  that,'  she 
tried  to  laugh  again,  and  answered,  'Yes  —  no  —  not 
exactly.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  he  was  a  strong  sort 
of  person,  and  sensible,  and  —  and  you  might  rely  on 
his  decisions.  It  is  only  a  fancy,  I  suppose  —  but  it 
just  came  into  my  mind  that  I  should  like  to  see  him 
again.'  There  is  no  doubt,  in  my  mind,  that  she  felt  a 
need  of  your  obstinate  strength,  which  she  did  not  com- 
prehend wholly  herself.  I  wish  you  had  come  —  I  wish 
from  my  soul  you  had  !  " 

"I  might  have  come  if  I  had  known,"  said  Tredennis, 
in  a  low  tone.  "There  was  nothing  —  nothing  to  have 
stood  in  my  way."  And  he  turned  and  began  his  walk 
again. 

The  professor  sighed,  as  he  had  sighed  before  — 
heavily  and  drearily. 

"But  you  did  not,"  he  said.  "And  she  married 
Amory." 

"I  should  like  to  know,"  asked  Tredennis,  "if  you 
think  she  is  unhappy  now.  Do  not  tell  me  if  you  do 
not  wish." 

The  professor's  reply  was  very  simple  and  direct. 

"She  has  never  been  given  to  taking  sentimental 
views  of  herself,"  he  said,  "  and  she  is  self-controlled  and 
fond  of  her  children,  but  she  has  never  been  happy  foi 


86  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

an  hour  since  her  marriage.  I  think  the  first  year  was 
very  bitter  to  her.  Amory  has  always  been  very  fond 
of  her ;  he  is  fond  of  her  now,  but  her  illusions  con- 
cerning his  passion  for  her  soon  died.  She  found  out 
in  two  months  that  he  would  not  have  perished  if  she 
hnd  discarded  him.  She  had  been  his  one  object  at  first, 
but  she  was  only  one  of  a  dozen  others  after  they  were 
married.  He  was  amiable  and  delightful,  but  he  was 
not  always  considerate.  The  picturesqueness  of  his 
attitude  toward  her  was  lost.  He  did  not  require  her 
care  and  sympathy,  and  the  sacrifices  she  made  for  him 
were  very  simple  and  natural  matters  in  his  eyes. 

"  In  the  beginning  she  was,  perhaps,  bewildered  and 
desperate ;  but,  girl  as  she  was,  she  was  too  proud  and 
just  not  to  see  that  her  youth  and  ignorance  had  led  hei 
into  a  folly,  and  that  the  result  was  its  natural  punish- 
ment. Once  she  said  to  me,  'The  worse  punishments 
in  life  are  the  punishments  for  ignorance  —  the  worst, 
the  worst ! '  And  I  knew  what  she  meant,  though  she 
said  no  more.  When  her  first  child  was  born,  she  went 
down  to  the  door  of  death,  and  her  physicians  said  there 
seemed  to  be  a  lack  of  effort.  And  yet,  I  tell  you  she 
might  have  been  the  happiest  young  mother  in  the  world. 
When  she  has  been  near  happiness  at  all  it  has  been  in 
her  quiet  moments  with  her  children.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  her  children  she  might  have  been  a  harder  and  more 
heartless  creature  than  she  can  ever  be  now.  If  she  had 
been  something  less  and  slighter  than  fate  made  her 
she  might  have  been  either  a  dull  nurse  and  house- 
keeper or  a  vapid  woman  of  society ;  in  either  case  she 
would  have  been  happier  than  she  is  to-day.  What  a 
long  story  it  is,  and  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  so  long 
\vhen  I  began." 

"  I  want  to  hear  it  all,"  broke  in  Tredennis,  —  "  every 
word.  1  have  not  understood  the  changes  I  saw  in  her 
I  want  to  understand." 

"  That  brings  me  to  the  point  of  it  all,"  was  the  re- 
ply, w  If  she  had  been  a  laborer's  wife  she  might 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  87 

have  1/een  too  hard-worked  to  be  restless  ;  but  she  has 
had  leisure,  and  social  duties,  and  she  has  set  hei  sell 
deliberately  the  desperate  task  of  making  them  her 
pleasures.  She  has  found  an  exhilaration  in  them  which 
has  given  her  no  time  for  regrets.  She  is  a  we  man, 
young,  attractive,  and  spirited.  She  was  too  full  of 
spirit  to  permit  herself  to  be  subdued  by  her  dis- 
appointment. As  she  cannot  retrieve  her  mistake,  she 
will  make  the  best  of  it.  She  has  reasoned  herself  into 
a  belief  that  she  is  satisfied  with  what  fortune  has  given 
her,  and  so  long  as  that  belief  remains  unshaken,  she 
will  be  as  happy  as  nine  women  out  of  ten  are.  Women 
are  not  happy,  as  a  rule,  Philip ;  they  are  not  happy.  I 
have  learned  that." 

"  But  so  long  as  her  belief  remains  unshaken "  — 
said  Tredennis. 

The  professor  interrupted  him,  gravely,  sadly. 

"  That  is  the  point,"  he  said.  "  My  fear  is  that  it  is 
shaken  now." 

Tredennis  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  room  —  stood 
quite  still. 

"  She  has  had  friends  and  admirers,"  said  the  profes- 
sor, "  scores  of  them.  Perhaps  all  the  more  because 
she  has  cared  less  for  them  than  they  for  her.  She  has 
a  pretty  trick  of  making  the  best  of  people,  and  it  wins 
the  public  heart.  She  has  friends,  acquaintances,  and 
even  harmless  devotees ;  but  among  them  all  there  is 
only  one  man  who  gauges  her,  and  that  man  is  the  one 
who  very  naturally  presents  himself  to  your  mind  as 
a  fair  dandy,  with  a  ready  tongue  and  good  manners. ' 

"  Arbuthnot !  "  exclaimed  Tredennis.     "  Arbuthnot   " 

The  professor  smiled  faintly. 

"  What,"  he  said,  "you  recognize  him  at  once  !  Well, 
my  one  vanity  is  my  pride  in  my  private  knowledge  of 
the  thought  of  others.  I  am  very  proud  of  it,  in  a 
senile  way.  I  have  been  studying  and  classifying  ill 
my  life,  and  now  I  sit  and  look  on,  and  treat  human 
beings  as  I  have  treated  insects.  If  it  had  not  been  so, 


88  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

I  should  not  have  known  so  much  of  Bertha.  Y"es,  Ar« 
buthnot.  Among  all  the  men  she  knows  and  has  known 
—  diplomates,  literati,  politicians,  honest  men  —  I  have 
found  only  one  to  disturb  me,  and  that  one  Laurence 
Arbuthnot." 

Tredennis  stood  still,  looking  down  at  the  floor >  with 
folded  arms. 

« I »  _  he  began,  "  I  have  thought "  — 

The  professor  started. 

"What!"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  have  thought?  If 
you  have  thought  —  it  must  be  plainer  than  I  feared." 

"No,"  said  Tredennis,  hurriedly.  "Do  not  let  that 
trouble  you.  What  I  have  thought  is  so  trivial  and 
vague  that  it  should  not  weigh  at  all.  It  has  oniy 
been  because  I  remembered  her  girlhood,  and  —  and  I 
thought  her  changed  —  and  did  not  understand." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  professor,  letting  his  face  fall  upon 
both  his  hands.  "  That  is  not  his  trouble ;  he  under- 
stands, and  that  is  his  strength.  He  has  had  his  eviJ 
hour,  that  composed,  well-dressed  fellow,  and  he  did 
not  come  out  of  it  without  scars.  He  covers  them 
well,  with  his  light  overcoat  and  the  rose  in  his  button- 
hole, but  they  are  there,  and  they  have  made  him  wise. 
He  has  been  silent,  but  he  has  looked  on  too, — as  I 
have, —  and  he  has  seen  what  others  were  blind  to.  She 
has  never  suspected  him,  but  his  knowledge  has  given 
him  power.  When  her  mauvais  quart  d'heure  has  come 
upon  her  he  has  known  what  to  say  and  what  to  avoid 
saying,  and  while  she  has  not  comprehended  his  mo- 
tives she  has  been  grateful  to  him.  She  has  liked  his 
feongs  and  his  readiness,  and  his  unsentimental  air,  and 
she  has  unconsciously  learned  to  rely  on  him.  Her 
first  sincere  liking  fcr  him  arose  from  her  discovery  of 
his  inconsistent  and  incongruous  knack  with  the  chil- 
dren. She  had  thought  of  him  as  a  rather  clever,  self- 
ish, well-mannered  creature,  and  once  in  a  juvenile 
crisis  he  surprised  her  by  developing  natural  gifts - 
somewhat  cold-blooded,  but  still  amazingly  effective, 


THROUGH    ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  85 

The  children  began  to  be  fond  of  him,  and  his  path 
was  smoothed.  She  began  to  be  fond  of  him  herself, 
genuinely  and  simply,  and  if  it  had  ended  there  she 
would  have  been  safer  than  before.  But  it  did  not  end 
there,  I  suppose.  The  cup  and  saucer  were  not  broken 
too  soon  this  evening,  —  they  were  not  broken  soon 
enough." 

"It  was  not  an  accident?  "  exclaimed  Tredennis. 

"  No,  it  was  not  an  accident.  I  have  heard  his  '  Sere- 
nade '  before.  There  is  the  danger.  Ho  means  no  harm  ; 
but  his  *  Serenade/  and  the  moments  when  what  is  past 
gets  the  better  of  him,  and  the  little  touches  of  passion 
his  overcoat  won't  always  cover,  and  the  bits  of  sincer- 
ity he  struggles  against  and  she  ponders  over,  are  good 
for  neither  him  nor  her.  I  have  heard  his  f  Serenade ' 
before ;  but  to-night,  when  she  got  up  and  followed  him 
as  if  he  had  called  her,  and  —  and  she  had  only  half 
heard  his  voice  and  yet  must  obey  it ;  and  when  she 
stood  there  against  the  wall,  with  her  pale  face,  and 
her  soft  eyes  fixed  on  him,  it  was  time  for  some  com- 
mon thing  to  happen  to  bring  her  back  to  life,  —  and 
the  cup  and  saucer  wore  offered  as  the  sacrifice." 

He  said  it  whimsically,  and  yet  sadly. 

"  Poor  child  !  "  he  added.  "  Poor  child  !  I  dare  say 
it  was  hard  enough." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  rosc>  went  to  Tre- 
dennis' side,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"There,"  he  said, — "there  is  the  confession,  and 
I  can  make  my  appeal  to  you  with  fewer  words." 

K  Your  appeal?"  Tredennis  repeated. 

WI  can  ask  you  for  your  help." 

w  If  there  is  any  help  I  can  give  which  is  worth  the 
asking  and  giving,"  said  Tredennis,  slowly,  "you  know 
it  will  be  yours." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  will  be  mine,  and  so  I  ask  it  easily. 
And  what  I  ask  is  this.  Let  us  walk  slowly  while  we 
talk,  and  I  will  keep  my  hand  on  your  shoulder,  —  I 
like  to  fee!  youi  support.  What  I  would  say  is  this  • 


90  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

if  you  had  been  my  son,  you  would  have  watched  over 
her  and  stood  between  her  and  any  pain  which  could 
threaten  her.  You  know  that  what  I  fear  for  her  now 
is  only  the  desperate,  hopeless  misery  such  an  experi- 
ence as  this  would  be  sure  to  bring  her  if  it  were  Al- 
lowed to  ripen ;  foi  her  there  is  nothing  else  to  fear 
No,  I  know  I  need  not  have  said  that  to  you." 

"No,"  answered  Tredennis,  "there  was  no  need  to 
say  it." 

"She  does  not  know  herself.  I  know  her,  and 
know  what  such  an  experience  holds  for  her.  Better 
that  her  life  should  be  barren  to  the  end  than  that  she 
should  bear  what  she  must  bear  if  her  heart  is  once 
awakened." 

"  Better  !  "  said  Tredennis. 

He  felt  the  tremulous  hand  weigh  heavily  upon  him. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  was  answered.  "I  have  lived 
my  life  nearly  to  its  close,  and  I  say  a  thousand  times 
better  !  I  married  a  woman  I  did  not  love,  and  I  loved 
a  woman  I  could  not  marry." 

"And  you  wished  to  ask  me,"  said  Tredennis, 
breaking  the  short  silence  which  followed. 

"I  ask  you  to  defend  her  against  this  pain.  If  1 
were  a  younger  and  stronger  man,  I  might  do  for  her 
what  I  ask  of  you ;  but  I  cannot  often  be  with  her.  You 
are  with  her  day  after  day.  She  likes  you." 

" I  have  fancied,"  Tredennis  said,  "that  she  did  not 
like  me." 

"  It  is  only  fancy.  She  sees  in  you  the  strength  she 
vaguely  longed  for  when  she  was  at  the  turning-point 
of  her  life.  Let  her  feel  that  it  is  always  near  her,  and 
that  she  may  rely  upon  it  now.  You  are  fond  of  her 
children,  —  talk  to  her  of  them.  When  you  see  her 
inclined  to  be  silent  and  unlike  herself,  bring  them  to 
her  mind ;  when  that  fellow  is  there,  manage  that  she 
shall  think  of  them.  Her  tenderness  for  them  is  your 
stronghold  and  mine.  To-night,  why  did  I  take  her  to 
the  nursery?  Because  they  lay  asleep  there,  and  when 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  91 

she  saw  them  she  stopped  to  cover  them  more  warmly, 
and  touch  them  with  her  hand,  and  bend  to  kiss  them, 
and  forgot  her  'Serenade.'  She  loves  them  better  than 
she  loves  anything  else  on  earth,  —  better  than  she 
could  love  anything  else,  perhaps.  That's  her  woman'a 
way.  God  made  it  so.  That  is  the  one  help  and  safe- 
guard He  gave  to  women  out  of  the  whole  bittci 
universe.  Bring  her  back  to  her  children  at  her  saddest 
and  weariest,  and  when  the  fight  is  hardest,  and  they 
will  beat  the  rest  back.  It  is  Nature.  You  will  do 
what  I  ask,  I  know. 

"I  shall  be  more  at  ease,"  he  said  next,  "  that  I  have 
asked  this  of  you.     When  you  are  with  her  I  shall  feel 
that  she  is  safe.     I  trust  her  in  your  hands." 
"  I  will  try  to  be  worthy  of  the  trust." 
"  It  is  rather  a  strange  one  to  repose  in  a  man  of  your 
age,  but  I  give  it  to  you  with  the  rest,  —  it  goes  with 
the  tie  you  wished  for.     It  is  a  relief  to  me  to  share  it 
with  a  strong  fellow  who  can  bear  it  well." 

They  talked  a  little  longer,  walking  across  the  floor 
two  or  three  times  together,  and  then  Tredennis  went 
away.  He  was  in  a  strange  frame  of  mind.  It  was 
almost  as  if  he  had  received  a  blow  which  had  partially 
stunned  him.  When  he  reached  the  street  he  stood  for 
a  moment  looking  up  at  the  starlit  sky. 

"A  strong  fellow,"  he  said.  "Am  I  such  a  strong 
fellow?  And  /  am  to  stand  between  you  and  your 
lover,  —  I?  That  is  a  strange  thing,  Bertha  —  a  strange 
thing." 

And,  rousing  himself  suddenly,  he  strode  down  the 
street,  and  the  professor,  who  had  gone  to  his  room, 
beard  his  military  tread  ringing  steady  and  measured 
upon  the  pavement,  and  felt  a  vague  comfort  in  the 
sound. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DURING  the  next  few  weeks  Bertha  did  not  appeal 
as  well  as  usual.  The  changes  Tredennis  had  seen  in 
her  became  more  marked.  She  lost  color  and  round- 
ness, and  now  and  then  was  forced  to  show  signs  of 
fatigue  which  were  not  habitual  with  her.  She  made 
no  alteration  in  her  mode  of  life,  however.  When 
Tredennis  called  in  the  evening  the  parlor  was  always 
full,  and  she  was  always  vivaciously  occupied  with  her 
guests.  Chief  among  her  attractions  was  counted  her 
pet  pretence  of  being  inferested  in  politics.  It  was  not 
a  very  serious  pretence,  but,  being  managed  deftly  and 
with  a  sense  of  its  dramatic  value,  animated  many  an 
hour  which  might  otherwise  have  been  dull,  in  view  of 
the  social  material  which  occasionally  fell  into  her  hands. 

"  What  should  I  do,"  Tredennis  heard  her  say  once, 
"  if  I  knew  nothing  of  politics  ?  There  are  times  when 
they  are  my  only  salvation.  What  should  I  have  done 
last  night  with  the  new  member  from  Arkansas  if  I  had 
not  remembered  that  he  was  interested  in  the  passage  of 
the  Currency  Bill?  He  is  an  excellent,  solid,  sensible 
creature;  we  are  frivolous,  aimless  beings  compared 
with  him.  It  is  such  men  as  he  who  do  everything 
worth  doing  and  being  done  >  but  he  is  purely  * 
politician,  and  he  has  spent  his  life  in  a  small  pro- 
vincial town,  where  he  has  been  a  most  important 
person,  and  he  cares  as  much  for  the  doings  of  society 
and  discussions  of  new  novels  and  pictures  as  I  do  for 
the  linseed-cil  market  —  if  there  is  a  linseed-oil  market. 
When  I  began  to  ask  him  modest  questions  about  his 
bill,  his  face  brightened  at  once,  and  he  became  a  self- 
respecting  and  well-informed  person,  —  at  ease  with 
himself  and  with  me,  and  quite  forgot  his  coat  and  his 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  93 

large  boots,  which  had  been  slowly  and  painfully 
dawning  upon  him  a  few  moments  before  when  he  con- 
trasted them  with  Mr.  Arbuthnot's  silk  attire.  My 
very  mistakes  were  a  pleasure  to  him,  as  they  gave 
him  an  opportunity  to  say  several  things  very  well 
worth  remembering.  He  could  not  have  told  whether 
I  was  well  or  ill  dressed,  but  he  detected  my  flimsiness 
in  argument  in  a  moment,  and  gave  me  more  information 
in  half  an  hour  than  you  scoffers  could  have  given  me 
in  a  week,  and  "  —  with  much  modesty  of  demeanor  — 
w  he  mentioned  to  Senator  Vaughan,  in  the  course  of 
thu  evening,  that  I  was  a  most  intelligent  woman." 

Arbuthnot  and  Richard  burst  into  the  laughter  which 
was  always  her  applause  upon  such  occasions. 

"  You  !  "  commented  Arbuthnot.  "  You  are  Hero- 
dias'  daughter,  dancing  for  the  head  of  John  the 
Baptist.  You  are  always  dancing  in  a  quiet  and  effec- 
tive way  for  somebody's  head.  Whose  would  you  like 
next  ?  How  does  mine  strike  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Bertha.  "  Would  you  really  give 
it  to  me  if  I  danced  for  you  in  my  ablest  manner ;  and 
how  do  you  think  it  would  look  on  a  charger?" 

There  was  more  than  one  hard-worked  politician  who, 
after  a  day  of  exciting  debate  or  wearisome  battling 
with  windmills,  found  relief  and  entertainment  in  the 
pretty  parlors.  Some  of  those  who  came  had  known 
Bertha  in  her  girlhood  and  were  friends  of  her  father,  and 
with  these  it  was  the  fashion  to  encourage  her  to  political 
argument,  and  affect  the  deepest  confidence  in  her 
statements,  with  a  view  to  drawing  forth  all  her  re- 
sources. These  resources  were  varied  and  numerous, 
and  marked  by  a  charming  feminine  daring  and  superi- 
ority to  ordinary  logic  which  were  the  delights  of  the 
senatorial  mind. 

"  Why  should  I  endeavor  to  convince  you  by  being 
logical?"  she  said.  "You  have  logic  —  at  least  we 
hope  su  —  all  day,  and  sometimes  all  night,  in  the 
Senate  and  the  House,  and  even  then  you  are  not  con- 


94  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

vinced  of  things.  It  is  not  logic  which  governs  youv 
but  a  majority.  And  that  is  what  one  should  aspire  to, 
after  all,  —  not  to  be  in  the  right,  but  to  be  in  the 
majority.  And  I  am  sure  one's  arguments  are  much  more 
untrammelled  and  brilliant  for  being  illogical.  And  if  I 
convince  you  without  logic,  I  win  a  victory  woith 
having.  It  is  like  the  triumph  of  an  ugly  woman  who 
is  called  a  beauty.  If  I  am  pretty  and  you  say  so,  it 
is  simply  as  if  you  said,  'white  is  white,  blackness  is 
dark ' ;  but  if  I  am  not  pretty,  and  am  ingenious  enough 
to  persuade  you  that  I  am  —  there  is  a  triumph  to  be 
proud  of ! " 

It  was  nonsense,  but  it  was  often  sparkling  nonsense, 
whose  very  lightness  was  its  charm,  and  the  rooms 
were  rarely  ever  so  gay  and  full  of  laughter  as  when 
there  was  among  the  guests  a  sprinkling  of  men  no 
longer  young,  who  had  come  there  to  forget  that  they 
were  jaded,  or  secretly  anxious,  or  bitterly  disap- 
pointed. 

"  It  pleases  me  to  dance  before  some  of  them,"  Bertha 
said  to  Arbuthnot.  "I  like  to  think  I  make  them 
forget  things  for  a  little  while.  If  I  can  do  nothing 
greater  and  wiser,  let  me  employ  my  one  small  ac- 
complishment to  the  best  advantage,  and  do  my  harm- 
less best  to  be  both  graceful  and  agile.  No  one  can 
persuade  me  that  it  can  be  a  pleasant  thing  to  engage 
in  a  hand-to-hand  conflict  from  three  to  eight  months  in 
the  year,  and  to  sit  day  after  day  placidly  endeavoring 
to  confront  men  who  difler  with  you  on  every  point, 
and  who  count  the  fact  among  their  virtues,  and  glory 
in  it,  and  watch  you  and  listen  to  you,  with  the  single 
object  of  seizing  an  opportunity  to  prove  in  public  that 
you  are  an  imbecile  or  a  falsifier,  or  a  happy  combination 
of  both.  When  I  reflect  upon  my  own  feelings,"  she 
added,  with  delightful  naivete,  "  when  people  are  stupid 
and  ill-mannered  enough  to  differ  with  me,  I  am  filled 
with  the  deepest  sympathy  for  the  entire  political  body,  j 
There  is  nothing  so  perfectly  exasperating  as  to  kncm 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  95 

people  are  differing  with  you,  and  I  know  there  is  noth- 
ing so  wearing  to  the  mind." 

An  exciting  debate  in  the  Senate  was  occupying  pub- 
lic attention  at  this  time,  and  to  her  other  duties  and  en- 
tertainments she  added  that  of  following  it  in  its  course. 
She  spent  an  hour  or  so  at  the  Capitol  every  day,  read 
the  newspapers,  and  collected  evidence  and  information 
with  an  unflagging  industry  which  would  have  been 
worthy  of  admiration  if  it  had  been  inspired  by  any 
serious  intention.  But  she  made  no  pretence  of  serious- 
ness of  intention.  She  returned  home  from  such  visits 
with  derisive  little  arguments  jotted  down  in  her  note- 
book and  little  sketches  of  senatorial  profiles  adorning  its 
pages,  and  entertained  a  select  audience  with  them  in 
the  evening,  —  an  audience  which  not  infrequently  in- 
cluded the  political  dignitaries  themselves.  Her  man- 
ner would  have  been  a  mystery  to  Tredennis  if  he  had 
not  remembered  the  professor's  words  of  warning,  and 
even  with  their  memory  in  his  mind  he  was  often  at  a 
loss.  There  was  a  restless  eagerness  to  be  amused  in 
all  she  did,  and  he  felt  that,  after  all,  she  was  privately 
less  successful  in  her  efforts  than  she  seemed.  He  was, 
at  least,  relieved  to  find  that  he  had  but  little  to  do  in 
the  role  assigned  him.  When  Arbuthnot  appeared 
again,  he  had  entirely  recovered  his  equilibrium,  and 
was  unemotional,  self-possessed,  occasionally  flippant, 
plainly  cherishing,  at  no  time,  any  intention  of  regard- 
ing himself  seriously.  He  did  not  sing  his  "  Serenade  " 
again,  and,  when  he  sang  at  all,  committed  himself  to 
no  outreaching  warmth  of  feeling.  He  rarely  spoke  to 
Bertha  alone,  and  the  old  tendency  to  airy  derision  of 
each  other's  weaknesses  reasserted  itself.  Only  once 
Tredennis  heard  him  address  her  with  any  degree  of 
seriousness,  and  this  was  in  reference  to  her  visits  to  the 
Senate.  There  had  been  an  all-night  session,  and  it  had 
been  her  whim  to  take  part  in  it  to  the  extent  of  sitting 
up  until  after  midnight,  and  she  had  returned  home 
more  tired  than  she  was  willing  to  confess.  Arbuthnot 


96  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

—  who,  with  Richard,  Tredennis,  and  a  newspaper 
friend,  had  been  her  companions  in  the  dissipation  — 
remonstrated  with  her  after  the  little  supper  they  had 
on  their  arrival  at  the  house. 

Bertha  had  left  the  table,  and  was  half  reclining  against 
a  pile  of  cushions  on  the  sofa,  and  Arbuthnot  followed 
her,  and  spoke  in  a  somewhat  lowered  voice. 

w  You  are  making  a  mistake  in  doing  such  things,"  he 
eaid.  "  Why  will  you  keep  it  up?  It's  all  nonsense. 
You  don't  care  for  it  really.  It  is  only  one  of  your 
caprices.  You  have  not  a  particle  of  serious  interest  in 
it." 

"  I  have  as  much  serious  interest  in  it  as  I  have  in 
anything  else,"  she  answered.  "More,  indeed.  Do 
you  suppose  I  was  not  interested  when  Senator  Ayres 
got  up  to-night  to  be  immeasurably  superior  by  the  hour  ? 
It  elevated  my  mental  plane,  and  gave  me  food  for 
reflection.  It  filled  me  with  a  burning  desire  to  be  im  • 
measurably  superior,  too.  Is  he  always  immeasurably 
superior?  Could  he  keep  it  up,  do  you  suppose,  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family,  —  when  he  is  putting  salt  on  his 
eggs  at  breakfast,  for  instance,  and  thinks  no  one  Is 
looking?  When  he  tries  on  a  new  hat,  does  he  do  it 
with  a  lofty  air  of  scorn,  and  does  he  fall  asleep  and 
have  the  nightmare  with  coldly  contemptuous  condescen- 
sion ?  I  don't  mind  mentioning  to  you  that  it  is  one  of 
my  favorite  moods  to  be  immeasurably  superior.  It  is 
such  a  good  way  when  you  cannot  get  what  you  want ; 
it  disposes  of  your  antagonists  so  simply  and  makes 
you  feel  so  deserving ;  but  I  never  could  keep  it  up,  — 
but  that  may  be  owing  to  weakness  of  character,  and 
the  fact  that  I  am  only  an  unworthy  imitator  and  lack 
the  vigor  to  convince  myself  of  my  own  genuineness. 
Oh  !  I  assure  you,  I  was  very  much  interested  indeed." 

"Well,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "I  might  have  expected  you 
would  say  something  of  this  kind.  It  is  your  little  way 
of  evading  matters.  You  have  a  knack  at  it." 

Bertha  looked  down  at  the  footstool  on  which  her 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  97 

email  shoe  rested,  and  then  up  at  him  with  a  quiet 
lace. 

"Yes,  it  is  my  little  way/'  she  answered.  "I  sup- 
pose I  might  count  it  among  my  few  small  accomplish- 
ments.  But  don't  you  think  it  is  as  good  a  way  as  any, 
—  particularly  if  it  is  the  only  way  you  have?" 

w  It  is  as  good  a  way  as  any,"  replied  Arbuthnot, 
with  the  calmness  of  a  sensible  person  addressing  an 
attractive  but  obstinate  child.  "  But  you  know  it  will 
not  prevent  my  saying  again  what  I  said  at  first.  You 
are  very  foolish  to  tire  yourself  out  for  nothing,  and 
you  will  regret  it  when  it  is  too  late." 

"Yes,"  answered  Bertha,  "if  I  regret  it  I  shall  natu- 
rally regret  it  when  it  is  too  late.  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  any  one's  regretting  a  thing  too  early,  or  just  in 
time?  That  is  what  regret  means  —  that  one  is  too 
late." 

Arbuthnot  sat  down  near  her. 

"If  you  want  to  talk  in  that  style,"  he  remarked,  in 
the  most  impartial  manner,  "  I  am  entirely  in  the  mood 
to  listen,  now  I  have  expressed  my  opinion.  It  isn't 
worth  much  as  my  opinion,  but  it  is  worth  something 
as  the  truth,  and  I  am  not  afraid  you  will  forget  it,  but, 
in  the  meantime,  until  Mrs.  Dacre  is  in  the  mood  to  be 
escorted  home,  you  can  pander  to  my  lower  nature  by 
showing  me  the  sketches  you  made  of  Senator  Ayres 
and  the  Speaker,  and  the  gentleman  from  Iowa  who  was 
afraid  to  fall  asleep." 

The  next  morning,  calling  with  a  newspaper  she  had 
wanted,  Tredennis,  being  handed  into  the  room  in  which 
Bertha  usually  spent  her  mornings  at  home,  found  her 
lying  upon  a  sofa,  and,  as  she  did  not  hear  him  entei,  he 
had  the  opportunity  to  stand  for  a  few  seconds  and  k  f  k 
at  her. 

While  he  did  so  she  opened  her  eyes  languidly  and 
saw  him,  and  the  thought  which  held  his  mind  for  the 
moment  sprang  to  his  lips  and  uttered  itself. 

"I do  not  think  you  know,"  he  said,  "how  pale  you  are." 


98  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  know, '  she  answered,  with  a  rathei 
tired  little  sniile,  "  if  it  is  unbecoming,  and  I  am  sure 
it  is.  But  I  will  ask  you  to  excuse  my  getting  up." 

He  entirely  passed  over  the  first  part  of  her  reply, 
as  she  had  noticed  he  had  a  habit  ot  passing  in  silence 
many  of  her  speeches,  though  she  had  not  been  able  to 
decide  why  he  did  so. 

"You  said,"  he  went  on,  "that  when  the  season  was 
over  you  intended  to  rest.  Have  you  been  doing  it 
lately?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  with  entirely  unembarrassed 
readiness.  "I  have  been  very  quiet  indeed." 

At  this  he  was  silent  for  a  moment  again,  and  during 
the  pause  she  lay  and  looked  at  him  with  an  expression 
of  curious  interest  —  trying  to  make  up  her  mind 
whether  he  did  not  reply  because  he  felt  himself  not 
sufficiently  ready  of  speech  to  meet  her  upon  her  own 
ground,  or  whether  his  silence  was  a  negative  sign  of 
disapprobation. 

"  I  am  never  tired  when  anything  is  going  on,"  she 
said,  at  last. 

"  That  is  the  worst  of  it,"  he  replied. 

"Oh,  no  —  the  best  of  it,"  she  said,  and  then  she 
looked  away  from  him  across  the  room,  and  added,  in 
a  tone  altogether  different,  "One  does  not  want  too 
much  time  on  one's  hands." 

Once  or  twice  before  he  had  seen  this  slight,  uncon- 
scious change  fall  upon  her,  and,  without  comprehending, 
had  been  sharply  moved  by  it,  but  she  always  recov- 
ered herself  quickly,  and  she  did  so  now. 

"I  tried  it  once,"  she  said,  "and  it  did  not  agree  with 
me,  and  since  then  I  have  occupied  myself.  As  Rich- 
ird  says,  'one  must  have  an  object/  and  mine  is  to 
occupy  myself." 

"  You  accomplish  your  end,  at  least,"  he  remarked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "I  congratulate  myself  upon 
that.  Upon  the  whole  I  do  not  know  any  one  who  is 
more  fortunate  than  I  am.  No  other  life  would  suit  ni« 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  99 

half  so  well  as  the  ono  I  lead.  I  am  fond  of  gayety, 
and  change,  and  freedom,  and  1  have  all  three.  Rich- 
ard is  amiable,  the  children  are  like  him,  and  there  is 
nothing  to  interfere  with  my  having  my  own  way,  and 
amusing  myself  as  I  please.  I  should  be  thoroughly 
unhappy  if  I  could  not  have  my  own  way ;  to  tnve  it 
invariably  is  one  of  my  laudable  ambitions,  and  as  1  always 
get  it  you  see  I  have  reason  for  being  charmed  with  my 
lot." 

"You  are  very  fortunate,"  he  said. 

"I  am  more  than  fortunate,"  she  answered.  Then 
she  broke  into  a  little  laugh.  "It  is  rather  odd,"  she 
said,  "  that  just  before  you  came  in  I  was  lying  think- 
ing of  the  time  you  were  in  Washington  before,  and 
there  came  back  to  me  something  I  said  to  you  the 
night  you  gave  me  the  heliotrope." 

"Was  it,"  said  Tredennis,  "what  you  said  to  me 
about  being  happy?" 

"  What ! "  she  said.  "  You  remember  it  ?  I  scarcely 
thought  that  you  would  remember  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Tredennis,  "I  remember  it." 

"  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  not  being  happy," 
she  went  on.  "It  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  such 
a  thing  was  a  possibility  until  you  said  something 
which  suggested  it  to  me.  I  recollect  how  it  startled 
me.  It  was  such  a  new  idea." 

She  stopped  and  lay  for  a  moment  silent. 

"And  this  morning?"  suggested  Tredennis. 

"This  morning,"  she  answered,  rather  slowly,  though 
smiling  as  she  spoke,  "this  morning,  as  I  said,  I  de- 
cided that  I  had  been  very  fortunate." 

"Then,"  he  said,  "you  have  been  happy." 

"Iflnad  not  been,"  she  answered,  "it  would  have 
been  very  curious.  I  have  never  been  interfered  wrih 
in  the  least." 

"That  is  happiness,  indeed,"  said  Tredennis. 

Just  now  he  was  reflecting  upon  the  fact  that  all  their 
Conversations  took  the  same  turn  and  ended  in  the  same 


100  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

way.  It  mattered  little  how  they  began ;  in  all  casei 
she  showed  the  same  aptitude  for  making  her  subject 
an  entirely  inconsequent  source  of  amusement.  Expe- 
rience was  teaching  him  that  he  need  expect  nothing 
else.  And,  even  as  he  was  thinking  this,  he  heard  her 
&ugh  faintly  again. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  I  see  in  your  face,"  she  said,  - 
*  what  I  see  oftener  than  anything  else  ?  " 

w  I  should  be  glad  to  know,"  he  replied. 

*  I  see  that  you  are  thinking  that  I  am  very  much 
Ranged,  and  that  it  is  not  for  the  better." 

He  paused  a  moment  before  he  answered  her,  and 
when  he  did  so  be  spoke  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor, 
and  slowly : 

ft  You  are  not  the  Bertha  I  used  to  know,"  he  said. 
"But  that  I  should  have  allowed  myself  to  expect  it 
shows  simply  that  I  am  a  dull,  unprogressive  fellow." 

"It  shows  that  you  are  very  amiable  and  sanguine," 
she  said.  "  I  should  have  been  even  more  fortunate 
than  it  has  been  my  fate  to  be  if  I  had  not  changed  in 
ten  years.  Think  of  the  good  fortune  of  having  stood 
still  so  long,  —  of  having  grown  no  older,  no  wiser.  No," 
in  a  lower  voice,  "I  am  not  the  Bertha  you  used  to 
know." 

But  the  next  instant,  almost  as  soon  as  she  had  ut- 
tered the  words,  she  lifted  her  eyes  with  the  daring 
little  smile  in  them. 

"But  I  am  very  well  preserved,"  she  said.  "I 
am  really  very  well  preserved.  I  am  scarcely 
wrinkled  at  all,  and  I  manage  to  conceal  the  ravages  of 
time.  And,  considering  my  years,  I  am  quite  active. 
I  danced  every  dance  at  the  Ashworths'  ball,  with  the 
kindly  assistance  of  Mr.  Arbuthnot  and  his  friends. 
There  were  debutantes  in  the  room  who  did  not  dance  half 
as  often.  The  yoang  are  not  what  they  were  in  my 
generation, — though  probably  the  expiring  energies  of 
advanced  age  are  flaming  in  the  socket  and"  — 

She  stopped  suddenly,  letting  her  hands  drop  at  her 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  101 

sides  " No,"  she  said  again,  "I  —  I  am  not  the  Beriba 
you  used  to  know  —  and  this  morning  I  am  —  tired 
enough  to  be  obliged  to  admit  it." 

Tredennis  took  a  quick  step  toward  her ;  the  hot 
blood  showed  itself  under  his  dark  skin.  What  he  had 
repressed  in  the  last  months  got  the  better  of  him  so  far 
that  he  had  no  time  to  reflect  that  his  stern,  almost 
denunciatory,  air  could  scarcely  be  ranked  among  ordi- 
nary conventionalities,  and  that  an  ordinarily  conven- 
tional expression  of  interest  might  have  been  more 
reasonably  expected  from  him  than  a  display  of  emotion, 
denunciatory  or  otherwise. 

"  Can  you  expect  anything  else  ?  "  he  said.  "  Is  your 
life  a  natural  one  ?  Is  it  a  natural  a*nd  healthy  thing 
that  every  hour  of  it  should  contain  its  own  excitement, 
and  that  you  should  not  know  what  simple,  normal  rest 
means  ?  Who  could  be  blind  to  the  change  which  has 
taken  place  in  you  during  the  last  few  weeks?  Last 
night  you  were  so  tired  and  unstrung  that  your  hand 
trembled  when  you  lifted  your  glass  to  your  lips.  Ar- 
buthnot  told  you  then  it  was  a  mistake  ;  I  tell  you  now 
that  it  is  worse,  — it  is  madness  and  crime." 

He  had  not  thought  of  what  effect  he  would  produce, 
—  his  words  were  his  indignant  masculine  protest 
against  her  pallor  and  weakness,  and  the  pain  he  had 
borne  in  silence  for  so  long.  It  seemed,  however,  that 
he  had  startled  her  singularly.  She  rose  from  her  re- 
clining posture  slowly  and  sat  upright,  and  her  hands 
trembled  more  than  they  had  done  the  night  before. 

"  Why,"  she  faltered,  "  why  are  you  so  angry  ?  " 

"That,"  he  returned  bitterly,  "  means  that  I  have  no 
right  to  be  angry,  of  course!  Well,  I  am  willing  to 
admit  it,  —  I  have  no  right.  I  am  taking  a  liberty.  I 
don't  even  suggest  that  you  are  making  a  mistake,  —  as 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  did;  I  am  rough  with  you,  and  say 
something  worse." 

"Yes,"  she  admitted,  "you  are  very  rough  with  mo." 
And  she  sat  a  few  moments,  locking  down  at  the  floor, 


102  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

her  little  hands'  'trembling  on  her  lap.  But  present!} 
she  moved  again.  She  pushed  one  of  the  cushions  up 
in  the  sofa-arm  and  laid  her  cheek  against  it,  with  a 
half-sigh  of  weariness  relieved  and  a  half-smile. 

"Go  on!"  she  said.  "After  all,  —  since  I  have  re- 
flected, —  I  think  I  don't  dislike  it.  New  things  always 
please  me,  —  for  a  little  while,  —  and  this  is  new.  No 
one  ever  spoke  to  me  so  before.  I  wonder  whether  it 
was  because  I  did  not  really  deserve  it  or  because 
people  were  afraid?" 

Tredennis  stopped  in  the  walk  he  had  begun  and 
wheeled  sharply  about,  fronting  her  with  his  dispro- 
portionately stern  ^gaze. 

"Do  you  want  to  know  why  /do  it?"  he  demanded. 
"I  think  —  since  I  have  reflected  —  that  it  is  for  the 
sake  of — of  the  other  Bertha." 

There  was  a  slight  pause. 

"  Of  the  other  Bertha,"  she  said  after  it,  in  a  low, 
unsteady  tone.  "  Of  the  Bertha  who  thought  it  an  im- 
possibility that  she  should  be  anything  but  happy." 

He  had  not  been  prepared  for  her  replies  before,  but 
he  was  startled  by  what  she  did  now.  She  left  her 
seat  with  a  sudden,  almost  impassioned,  action ;  the 
cushion  fell  upon  the  floor.  She  put  her  hand  upon 
the  mantel,  as  if  to  support  herself. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I  do  not 
like  it  !  I  do  not  like  to  be  reminded  that  it  is  so  long 
since  —  since  I  was  worth  iking.  I  suppose  that  is 
what  it  means.  Why  she  aid  you  seem  to  accuse  me 
when  you  say  you  speak  for  the  sake  of  the  other 
Bertha  ?  Am  I  so  bad  ?  You  have  lived  a  quiet  life 
because  you  liked  it  best ;  I  did  not  chance  to  like  it 
best,  and  so  I  have  been  gay.  I  go  out  a  great  deal 
and  am  fond  of  the  world,  but  do  I  neglect  my  children 
and  treat  my  husband  badly  ?  Richard  is  very  happy, 
and  Jack  and  Janey  and  Meg  enjoy  themselves  and  are 
very  fond  of  me.  If  I  was  careless  of  them,  and  ill- 
tempered  to  Richard,  and  made  my  home  unhappy, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  103 

you  might  accuse  me.  It  is  the  most  mysterious  thing 
to  me,  but  I  always  feel  as  if  I  was  defending  myself 
against  you,  even  when  you  only  look  at  me  and  do 
not  speak  at  all.  It  —  it  is  a  curious  position!  I  do 
not  understand  it,  and  I  do  not  like  it !  " 

Her  sudden  change  of  mood  was  a  revelation  to  Tre 
dennis.  He  began  to  realize  what  he  had  dimly  felt 
from  the  first,  that  her  mental  attitude  toward  him 
was  one  of  half-conscious  defiance  of  his  very  thought 
of  her.  He  had  not  known  why  he  had  felt  at  times 
that  his  mere  presence  prompted  her  to  present  her 
worldly,  mocking  little  philosophies  in  their  most  in- 
controvertible and  daring  form,  and  that  it  was  her 
whim  to  make  the  worst  of  herself  and  her  theories  for 
his  benefit.  He  accused  himself  angrily  in  secret  of 
overestimating  his  importance  in  her  eyes,  and  had  re- 
iterated impatiently  that  there  was  no  reason  why  she 
should  be  at  all  specially  aware  of  his  existence  when 
he  was  near  her,  and  it  had  been  one  of  his  grievances 
against  himself  that,  in  spite  of  this,  every  time  they 
met  he  had  felt  the  same  thing,  and  had  resented  and 
been  puzzled  by  it. 

But  he  had  never  before  seen  her  look  as  she  looked 
now.  One  of  his  private  sources  of  wonder  had  been  the 
perfect  self-control  which  restrained  her  from  exhibiting 
anything  approaching  a  shadow  of  real  feeling  upon  any 
subject.  He  had  seen  her  under  circumstances  which 
would  have  betrayed  nine  women  out  of  ten  into  some 
slight  display  of  irritation,  and  she  had  always  maintained 
the  airy  serenity  of  demeanor  which  deprived  all  person? 
and  incidents  of  any  weight  whatever  when  they  assumed 
the  form  of  obstacles,  and  her  practicable  little  smile  and 
calm  impartiality  of  manner  had  never  failed  her.  He 
had  heard  her  confess  that  it  was  her  chief  weakness  to 
pride  herself  upon  her  quiet  adroitness  in  avoiding  all 
things  unpleasant  or  emotional,  and  upon  her  faithful- 
ness to  her  resolve  not  to  permit  herself  to  be  disturbed. 

"  I  have  seen  people  who  enjoyed  their  emotions, "sh€ 


104  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

had  said,  "  but  I  never  enjoyed  mine,  even  when  1  waa 
very  young.  I  definitely  disliked  them.  I  am  too  self- 
c.mscious  to  give  myself  up  to  them  simply.  If  I  had 
one,  I  should  think  about  it  and  analyze  it  and  its  effects 
upon  me.  I  should  be  saying  all  the  time,  'Nov  I  am 
hot  —  now  I  am  cold  ' ;  and  when  it  was  over  I  should 
be  tired,  not  only  of  the  feeling  itself,  but  of  taking  my 
own  temperature." 

And  now  she  stood  before  him  for  the  instant  a  new 
creature,  —  weaker  and  stronger  than  he  had  dreamed  it 
possible  she  could  be,  —  her  eyes  bright  with  some 
strange  feeling,  a  spot  of  color  burning  on  each  pale 
cheek.  He  was  so  bewildered  and  impressed  that  he 
was  slow  to  speak,  and,  when  he  began,  felt  himself  at 
so  severe  a  disadvantage  that  his  consciousness  of  it  gave 
his  voice  a  rigid  sound. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  he  began,  "  that  I  know  what  to 
say  "  — 

Bertha  stopped  him. 

w  There  is  no  need  that  you  should  say  anything,"  she 
interrupted.  "  You  cannot  say  anything  which  will  dis- 
approve of  me  more  than  your  expression  does.  And 
it  is  not  you  who  should  defend  yourself,  but  I.  But 
you  were  always  severe.  I  remember  I  felt  that  when 
I  was  only  a  child,  and  knew  that  you  saw  all  that  wa:- 
frivolous  in  me.  I  was  frivolous  then  as  I  am  now.  1 
suppose  I  have  a  light  nature,  —  but  I  do  not  like  to  be 
reminded  of  it.  After  all,  no  one  is  harmed  but  myself, 
and  it  would  be  charity  in  you  to  let  me  go  my  flippant 
way  and  not  despise  me  too  much." 

"  Bertha,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  not  for  me  to  say  thai 
I  do  not  despise  you." 

He  stood  with  his  arms  folded  and  looked  down  at 
her  steadily.  It  was  very  easy  for  her  to  place  him  at 
a  disadvantage.  He  knew  nothing  of  feminine  ways 
and  means,  and  his  very  masculine  strength  and  large- 
ness were  against  him.  If  she  gave  him  a  wound  he 
could  not  .«trike  back,  or  would  not;  and  in  hei  last 


THBOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  105 

speech  she  had  given  him  more  wounds  than  one,  and 
they  were  rankling  in  his  great  breast  fiercely.  And 
yet  despite  this  it  was  not  she  who  came  off  entirely  vic- 
tor. After  meeting  his  gaze  with  undeniable  steadiness 
for  a  few  seconds,  she  turned  away. 

w  I  told  you,"  she  remarked  with  a  persistence  which 
was  its  own  betrayer,  "that  —  it  was  not  necessary  for 
you  to  say  anything."  The  next  moment  an  impatient 
laugh  broke  from  her.  She  held  up  her  unsteady  hand 
that  he  might  see  it. 

"  Look  !  "  she  said.  "  Why  should  I  quarrel  with  you 
when  you  are  right,  after  all  ?  It  is  certainly  time  that 
I  should  rest  when  I  am  so  absurdly  unstrung  as  this. 
And  my  very  mood  itself  is  a  proof  that  something 
should  be  done  with  me.  For  a  minute  or  so  I  have 
actually  been  out  of  temper,  or  something  humiliat- 
ingly  like  it.  And  I  pride  myself  upon  my  temper,  you 
know,  and  upon  the  fact  that  I  never  lose  it,  —  or  have 
not  any  to  lose.  I  must  be  worn  out  when  a  few  per- 
fectly truthful  speeches  will  make  me  bad-tempered. 
Not  that  I  object  to  it  on  moral  grounds,  but  it  wounds 
my  vanity  to  lose  control  of  myself.  And  now  I  have 
reached  my  vanity  I  am  quite  safe.  I  will  leave  for 
Fortress  Monroe  to-morrow." 

"It  would  be  better  if  you  went  to  a  quieter  place," 
he  said. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered.  "  I  think  it  will  be  quiet 
enough,  —  if  I  take  the  children,  and  avoid  the  ball- 
room, and  am  very  decorous." 

There  seemed  but  little  more  for  him  to  say.  She 
changed  the  subject  by  taking  from  the  table  the  paper 
he  had  brought  her,  and  beginning  to  discuss  its  con- 
tents. 

"Richard  asked  me  to  read  the  editorial  and  the  let- 
ter from  the  Washington  correspondent,"  she  said. 
K  He  is  more  interested  in  the  matter  than  I  ever  knew 
him  to  be  in  anything  of  the  kind  before.  He  is  act- 
ually making  it  one  of  his  objects,  and  flatters  n?e  by 


106  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

wanting  to  know  my  opinions  and  wishing  me  to  share 
his  enthusiasm."  She  sat  down  to  the  table,  with  the 
paper  open  before  her  and  her  hands  lying  clasped 
upon  it. 

"  Have  you  read  it  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Is  it  very  clever  P 
Can  I  understand  it?  Richard  is  30  amiably  sure  I 
can."  ' 

"It  is  well  done,"  replied  Tredennis,  "and  you  will 
certainly  understand  it." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,"  she  said,  and  sat  still  a  moment, 
with  eyes  lowered.  Then  she  spoke,  rather  suddenly. 
"Richard  is  very  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "I  ought  to 
be  very  grateful  to  him.  It  is  just  like  him  to  feel  that 
what  I  think  of  such  things  is  worth  hearing.  That  is 
his  affectionate,  generous  way.  Of  what  value  could 
my  shallow  little  fancies  be  ?  —  and  yet  I  think  he  really 
believes  they  should  carry  weight.  It  is  the  most  de- 
lightful flattery  in  the  world." 

"It  is  your  good  fortune,"  said  Tredennis,  "to  be 
able  to  say  things  well  and  with  effect." 

"  What !  "  she  said,  with  a  half-smile,  "  are  you  going 
to  flatter  me,  too  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  grimly,  *  I  am  not  going  to  flat- 
ter you." 

"You  would  find  it  a  very  good  way,"  she  answered. 
"  We  should  get  along  much  better,  I  assure  you.  Per- 
haps that  is  really  what  I  have  been  resenting  so  long 
—  that  you  show  no  facility  for  making  amiable 
speeches." 

"I  am  afraid  my  facility  lies  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion," he  returned. 

"  I  have  recovered  my  equilibrium  sufficiently  not  to 
admit  that,"  she  said. 

When  he  went  away,  as  he  did  shortly  after,  she  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  door  of  the  room. 

"Was  I  very  bad-tempered?"  she  said,  softly.  "If 
I  was,  suppose  you  forgive  me  before  you  go  away  — 
for  the  sake  of  the  other  Bertha," 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  107 

He  took  the  hand  she  offered  him,  and  looked  down 
at  it  as  it  lay  upon  his  big  brown  palm.  It  was  fever- 
ish and  still  a  little  ur  steady,  though  her  manner  was 
calm  enough. 

"There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  he  answered.  "If 
there  was  —  this  Bertha  "  —  He  checked  himself,  and 
ended  abruptly.  "I  don't  share  your  gift,"  he  said. 
"I  said  my  say  as  bluntly  and  offensively  as  possible, 
I  suppose,  and  you  had  a  right  to  be  angry.  It  was 
all  the  worse  done  because  I  was  in  earnest." 

"  So  was  I  —  for  a  moment,"  she  said  ;  "that  was  the 
trouble." 

And  that  was  the  end  of  it,  though  even  when  he 
dropped  her  hand  and  turned  away,  he  was  aware  of 
her  slender  figure  standing  in  the  door- way,  and  of  a 
faint,  inexplicable  shadow  in  the  eyes  that  followed 
him. 

He  went  back  to  his  quarters  bitterly  out  of  humoi 
with  himself. 

"A  nice  fellow  I  am  to  talk  to  women !"  he  said. 
"  I  have  not  lived  the  life  to  fit  me  for  it.  Military 
command  makes  a  man  authoritative.  What  right  had 
I  to  seem  to  assume  control  over  her  ?  She's  not  used 
to  that  kind  of  thing,  even  from  those  who  might 
be  supposed  to  have  the  right  to  do  it.  Some  one 
ought  to  have  the  right  —  though  that  has  gone  out  oi 
fashion,  too,  I  suppose."  Something  like  a  groan  burst 
from  him  as  he  laid  his  forehead  upon  his  hands,  resting 
his  elbows  on  the  table  before  him.  "  If  a  man  loved 
hor  well  enough,"  he  said,  "  he  might  do  it  and  nevei 
h  irt  her ;  but  if  she  loved  him  perhaps  there  would  be 
no  need  of  it." 

He  had  passed  through  many  such  brief  spasms  of 
resentful  misery  }f  late,  and  he  was  beginning  to  ac- 
knowledge to  himself  that  each  one  was  stronger  than 
the  last.  He  had  contended  his  ground  with  steady 
persistence  and  with  stubborn  condemnation  of  his  OWD 
weakness,  but  he  had  lost  it,  inch  by  inch,  until  tbore 


108  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

were  times  when  he  felt  his  foothold  more  insecure  than 
he  could  have  believed  possible  a  year  ago. 

w  Why  should  I  think  of  myself  as  a  man  who  has  lost 
something  ? "  he  was  wont  to  say  to  himself,  bitterly 
and  impatiently.  "  I  had  won  nothing,  and  might  never 
have  won  it.  I  had  what  would  have  been  opportunity 
enough  for  a  quicker  temperament.  It  is  nothing  but 
sentiment." 

And,  even  as  he  said  it,  there  would  come  back  to 
him  some  tone  of  Bertha's  voice,  some  pretty  natural 
turn  of  her  head  or  figure  as  she  sat  or  stood  in  the 
parlor  with  her  small  court  around  her ;  and,  slight  as 
the  memory  might  be,  the  sudden  leap  of  his  pulses  had 
more  power  than  his  argument. 

It  was  these  trifles  and  their  habit  of  haunting  him 
which  were  harder  to  combat  than  all  the  rest.  His 
life  had  been  so  little  affected  by  femininity  that  hers 
had  a  peculiarly  persistent  influence  upon  him.  He 
noted  in  her  things  he  might  have  seen  in  scores  of  other 
women,  but  half  fancied  belonged  specially  to  herself. 
The  sweep  and  fall  of  her  dress,  the  perfume  she  used, 
the  soft  ruffles  of  lace  she  was  given  to  wearing,  —  each 
of  her  little  whims  of  adornment  had  its  distinct  effect, 
ind  seemed,  in  some  mysterious  way,  to  have  been  made 
her  own,  and  to  be  shared  with  no  other  being.  Other 
women  wore  flowers  ;  but  what  flowers  had  ever  haunted 
him  as  he  had  been  haunted  by  the  knot  of  heliotrope 
and  violets  he  Lid  seen  her  tuck  carelessly  into  the  belt 
of  her  dress  one  day  ?  He  had  remembered  them  with 
a  start  again  and  again,  and  each  time  they  had  bloomed 
and  breathed  their  soft  scent  afresh. 

w  It  is  all  sentiment,'*  he  persisted.  "  There  would  be 
nothing  new  in  it  tc  —  to  that  fellow  Arbuthnot,  for  in- 
stance ;  but  it  is  new  to  me,  and  I  can't  get  rid  of  it,  some- 
how." 

He  had  heard  in  his  p  ist  stories  of  men  who  c  herished 
as  treasures  for  a  lifetime  a  ribbon  or  a  flower,  and  had 
passed  them  by  in  undisturbed  composure  au  incidents 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  109 

belonging  only  to  the  realms  of  wild  romance ;  but  ho 
had  never  in  the  course  of  his  existence  felt  anything  so 
keen  as  the  inconsequent  thrill  which  was  the  result  of 
his  drawing  suddenly  from  his  pocket  one  night,  on  his 
return  to  his  quarters  after  a  romp  with  the  children,  e 
small,  soft,  long- wristed  glove  which  it  had  been  Master 
Jack'j  pleasure  to  hide  there. 

lie  had  carried  it  sternly  back  the  next  morning  and 
returned  it  to  Bertha,  but  the  act  cost  him  an  effort ;  it 
had  been  like  a  living  presence  in  his  room  the  night 
before,  and  he  had  slept  less  well  because  of  it. 

He  had  used  his  very  susceptibility  to  these  influences 
as  an  argument  against  his  feeling. 

"  There  is  nothing  substantial  in  it,"  he  had  said,  — 
"  nothing  but  what  a  man  should  find  it  easy  to  live 
down.  It  is  the  folly  of  a  boy,  intoxicated  by  the  color 
of  a  girl's  cheek  and  the  curl  of  her  hair.  An  old  fellow, 
who  any  day  may  find  a  sprinkling  of  gray  in  his  scalp- 
lock,  should  know  better  than  to  ponder  over  a  pretty 
gown  and  —  a  bunch  of  flowers ;  and  yet  how  one  re- 
members them ! " 

And  to-day  it  was  the  little  things,  as  usual,  almost 
as  much  as  the  great  ones.  The  memory  of  the  small, 
bright  room,  with  its  air  of  belonging  to  Bertha,  and 
being  furnished  by  Bertha,  and  strewed  with  appendages 
of  Bertha;  the  slight  figure,  in  its  white  morning  dress, 
lying  upon  the  sofa  or  standing  between  the  folding- 
doors  ;  the  soft,  full  knot  of  her  hair  as  he  saw  it  when 
she  turned  her  head  proudly  away  from  him,  — what 
trifles  they  were  !  And  yet  if  the  room  had  been  another, 
and  the  pretty  dress  not  white,  and  the  soft  hair  coiled 
differently,  everything  might  have  had  another  effect, 
and  he  might  have  been  in  another  mood,  —  or  so  he 
fancied. 

But  he  gave  himself  little  leisure  for  the  indulgence  of 
hi  3  fancies,  and  he  made  his  usual  effort  to  crush  them 
down  and  undervalue  them.  His  groan  was  followed  bv 
a  bitter  laugh. 


110  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"  It  is  the  old  story,"  he  said.  "  I  please  myself  bj 
fancying  that  what  would  please  me  would  make  her 
happier.  Arbuthnot  would  know  better.  Control 
would  not  suit  her,  even  the  gentlest.  She  has  had 
her  own  way  too  long.  She  is  a  small,  slight  creature, 
but  it  has  been  her  lot  to  rule  all  her  life,  in  a  small, 
slight  creature's  way.  It  is  the  natural  sentimentality 
of  an  obstinate,  big-boned  fellow  to  fancy  she  would 
thrive  under  it.  She  would  know  better  herself.  She 
would  laugh  the  thought  to  scorn,  and  be  wise  in  doing 
it." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  Ill 


CHAPTER  X. 

As  he  was  saying  it  Bertha  had  gone  back  to  her 
sofa,  and  sat  there  with  the  faint,  troubled  smile  still  on 
her  face. 

"He  was  angry,"  she  said,  "and  so  was  I.  It  made 
him  look  very  large ;  but  I  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  him, 

—  no,  positively,  I  was  not  afraid  of  him,  and  I  am  glad 
of  that.    It  is  bad  enough  to  remember  that  I  was  emo- 
tional, and  said  things  I  did  not  mean  to  say.     It  is  not 
like  me  to  say  things  I  don't  mean  to  say.     I  must  be 
more  tired  out  than  I  knew.     Ah,  there  is  no  denying 
that  he  was  in  the  right !     I  will  go  away  and  stay  some 
time.     It  will  be  better  in  every  way." 

For  some  minutes  she  sat  motionless,  her  hands 
clasped  lightly  upon  her  knee,  her  eyes  fixed  on  a  patch 
of  sunlight  on  the  carpet.  She  did  not  move,  indeed, 
until  she  heard  the  sound  of  her  husband's  foot  upon  the 
steps  and  his  latch-key  in  the  door.  He  entered  the 
room  immediately  afterward,  looking  rather  warm  and 
a  trifle  exhilarated,  and  all  the  handsomer  in  con- 
sequence. 

"Ah,  Bertha,  you  are  here!"  he  said.  "I  am  glad 
you  are  not  out !  How  warm  it  is  !  Fancy  having  such 
weather  early  in  May  !  And  three  days  ago  we  had 
fires.  What  a  climate  !  There  is  something  appropriate 
in  it.  It  is  purely  Washingtonian,  and  as  uncertain  a? 

—  as  senators.     There's  a  scientific  problem  for  the 
Signal  Service  Bureau  to  settle, — Does  the  unreliability 
of  the  climate  aifect  the  senatorial  mind,  or  does  the 
unreliability  of  the  senatorial  mind  aifect  the  climate?" 

"It  sounds  like  a  conundrum,"  said  Bertha,  "and  the 
Signal  Service  Bureau  would  give  it  up.  You  have  been 


112  THROlfGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

walking  too  fast,  you  foolish  boy,  and  have  overheated 
yourself.  Come  and  lie  down  on  the  sofa  and  rest." 

She  picked  up  the  cushion,  which  had  fallen,  and  put 
it  in  place  for  him.  There  was  always  a  pretty  vouch 
of  maternal  care  for  him  in  her  manner.  He  accepted 
her  invitation  with  delighted  readiness,  and,  when  he 
had  thrown  himself  at  luxurious  full  length  upon  the 
sofa,  she  took  a  seat  upon  its  edge  near  him,  having 
first  brought  from  the  mantel  a  large  Japanese  fan,  with 
which  she  stirred  the  air  gently. 

"  Why  were  you  glad  that  I  had  not  gone  out  ?  "  she 
said.  "  Did  you  want  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  he  answered,  "  I  always  want  you.  You  are 
the  kind  of  little  person  one  naturally  wants,* —  and  it  is 
a  sort  of  relief  to  find  you  on  the  spot.  How  nice  this 
Grand  Pasha  business  is,  —  lying  on  cushions  and  being 
fanned, — and  how  pretty  and  cool  you  look  in  your 
white  frills  !  White  is  very  becoming  to  you,  Bertha." 

Bertha  glanced  down  at  the  frills. 

"Is  it?"  she  said.  "Yes,  I  think  it  is,  and  this  is  a 
pretty  gown.  Kiehard  ! " 

"Well?" 

"  You  said  it  was  a  sort  of  relief  to  find  me  on  the 
spot.  Did  you  say  it  because  I  am  not  always  here 
when  you  want  me  ?  Do  you  think  I  go  out  too  much  ? 
Does  it  ever  seem  to  you  that  I  neglect  you  a  little,  and 
am  not  quite  as  domesticated  as  I  should  be  ?  Should 
you  be  —  happier  —  if  I  lived  a  quieter  life  and  cared 
less  for  society  ?  " 

There  was  a  touch  of  unusual  earnestness  in  her 
voice,  and  her  eyes  were  almost  childishly  eager  as  she 
turned  them  upon  him. 

w  Happier  ! "  he  exclaimed,  gayly.  "  My  dear  child  ! 
I  could  not  easily  be  happier  than  I  am.  How  could  I 
accuse  you  of  neglecting  me  ?  You  satisfy  me  exactly 
in  everything.  Whose  home  is  more  charming,  and 
whose  children  are  better  cared  for  than  mine  ?  It  is 
not  necessary  for  you  to  cook  my  dinner,  but  you  are 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  113 

the  most  delightful  sauce  to  it  in  the  world  when  you 
sit  at  the  head  of  the  table.  What  more  could  a  man 
want?" 

M  I  —  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  but  I  could 
not  bear  to  think  that  I  was  not  what  I  should  be  in  my 
own  home.  It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  theio 
could  be  no  bad  taste  and  bad  .breeding  so  inexcusable 
as  the  bad  taste  and  bad  breeding  of  a  woman  who  is 
disagreeable  and  negligent  in  her  own  house.  One  has 
no  need  to  put  it  on  moral  grounds  even — the  bad  taste 
of  it  is  enough.  I  don't  think  I  could  ever  be  disagree- 
able, or  that  you  could  think  me  so ;  but  it  strucl 
me"  — 

"  Don't  let  it  strike  you  again,"  he  interrupted,  ami- 
ably. "  It  has  struck  me  that  there  were  never  two 
people  so  well  suited  to  each  other  as  our  married  life 
has  proved  us  to  be.  I  don't  mind  admitting  now  that 
once  or  twice  during  the  first  year  I  thought  that  you 
were  a  little  restless  or  unhappy,  but  it  was  when  you 
were  not  well,  and  it  was  quite  natural,  and  it  all  passed 
away,  and  I  don't  think  it  would  occur  to  any  one  in 
these  days  to  ask  whether  you  are  happy  or  not." 

Bertha  was  playing  with  his  watch-chain,  and  she 
separated  one  charm  upon  it  from  another  carefully  as 
she  answered  him  in  a  soft,  natural  voice : 

w  There  is  a  legend,  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  the 
first  year  of  one's  m image  is  always  uncomfortable." 

w  Oh,  mine  was  not  uncomfortable,"  he  returned,  — 
w  it  was  delightful,  as  all  the  other  years  have  been ; 
but  —  just  occasionally,  you  know  —  there  was  a  — 
well,  a  vague  something  —  which  never  troubles  me 
now.' 

WI  must  have  behaved  badly  in  some  way,"  said 
Bertha,  smiling,  "or  it  would  not  have  troubled  you 
then." 

4.nd  she  stooped  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 

f  I  have  a  horrible  conviction,"  she  said  after  it,  "  that 
1  was  a  vixeR.  Was  I  a  vixen9  Perhaps  I  was  a  vixen, 


114  THBOCJGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  never  suspected  it,  and  no  one  suspected  it  but 
you.  Poor  boy  !  Why  didn't  you  return  me  to  papa 
with  thanks?  Well,  as  you  have  kept  me  so  long,  you 
must  make  the  best  of  me.  And  it  is  very  nice  and 
polite  in  you  to  pretend  that  I  am  satisfactory,  and 
don't  make  you  wretched  and  your  hearth  a  wilderness 
by  being  a  hollow  worldling." 

"You  are  exactly  what  I  want,"  he  responded.  "I 
am  a  hollow  worldling  myself.  If  I  were  a  bricklayer, 
my  idea  of  domestic  bliss  migLt  be  to  spend  my  even- 
ings at  home  and  watch  you  mending  stockings  or  knit- 
ting, or  doing  something  of  that  sort ;  but  even  then  I 
am  afraid  I  should  tire  of  it,  and  secretly  long  for  some- 
thing more  frivolous." 

"  For  something  as  frivolous  as  I  am  ?  "  she  said,  with 
a  nervous  little  laugh.  "Quite  as  frivolous,  Richard  — 
really?  But  I  know  you  will  say  so.  You  are  always 
good  to  me  and  spoil  me." 

"No,  I  am  not,"  he  answered.  "It  is  simply  true 
that  you. always  please  me.  It  is  true  I  am  a  rather 
easy-natured  fellow,  but  I  know  plenty  of  good-natured 
fellows  whose  wives  are  terribly  unsatisfactory.  You 
are  clever  and  pretty,  and  don't  make  mistakes,  and  you 
are  never  exacting,  nor  really  out  of  humor,  and  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  tire  of  you  "  — 

"Really?"  she  said,  quickly,  "is  that  last  true?" 

"Entirely  true." 

"  Well,"  she  commented,  the  color  rising  in  her  cheek, 
"  that  is  a  good  deal  for  one's  husband  to  say  !  That  is 
a  triumph.  It  amounts  to  a  certificate  of  character." 

"  Well,"  he  admitted,  after  a  second's  reflection, 
*  upon  the  whole  it  is  !  I  know  more  husbands  than 
one  ;  but  no  matter.  I  was  going  to  add  that  long  ago 
—  before  I  met  you,  you  know  —  my  vague  visions  of 
matrimonial  venture  were  always  clouded  by  a  secret 
conviction  that  when  I  had  really  passed  the  Rubicon, 
and  had  time  for  reflection,  things  might  begin  to  assume 
a  rather  serious  aspect." 


THROUGH    OKE    ADMINISTRATION.  115 

"And  I,"  said  Bertha,  a  little  thoughtfully,  "hav* 
never  assumed  a  serious  aspect." 

w  Never,'*  he  replied,  exultingly.  w  You  have  been  a 
perfect  success.  There  is  but  one  Bertha  "  — 

And  her  husband  is  her  prophet  I "  she  added, 
"You  are  very  good  to  ine,  Richard,  and  it  is  entirety 
useless  for  you  to  deny  it,  because  I  shall  insisl  upon  it 
with  —  with  wild  horses,  if  necessary  ;  which  figure  of 
speech  I  hope  strikes  you  as  being  strong  enough." 

She  was  herself  again —  neither  eager  nor  in  earnest, 
ready  to  amuse  him  and  to  be  amused,  waving  her  fan  for 
his  benefit,  touching  up  his  cushions  to  make  him  more 
comfortable,  and  seeming  to  enjoy  her  seat  on  the  edge 
of  his  sofa  very  much  indeed. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  at  length,  "what  I  have 
thought  of  doing?  I  have  thought  quite  seriously  of 

foing  in  a  day  or  so  to  Fortress  Monroe  with  the  chil- 
ren." 

She  felt  that  he  started  slightly,  and  wondered  why. 

"  Are  you  surprised  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Would  you  rather 
I  would  not  go  ?  " 

"No,"  he  answered,  "if  you  think  it  would  be  better 
for  you.  You  are  tired,  and  the  weather  is  very  warm. 
But  —  have  you  set  any  particular  day  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  should  not  do  that  without  speak- 
ing to  you  first." 

"  Well,"  he  returned,  "then  suppose  you  do  not  go 
this  week.  I  have  half-invited  Senator  Planefield,  and 
Macpherson  and  Ashley  to  dinner  for  Thursday." 

"  Is  it  because  you  want  them  to  talk  about  the  bill  ?  " 
she  said.  "  How  interested  you  are  in  it,  Richard ! 
Why  is  it?  Railroads  never  struck  me  as  being  par- 
ticularly fascinating  material.  It  seems  to  me  that  ama- 
teur enthusiasm  would  be  more  readily  awakened  by 
something  more  romantic  and  a  little  intangible,  —  a  tre- 
mendous claim,  for  instance,  which  would  make  some 
poor,  struggling  creatures  fabulously  rich.  I  am  always 
interested  in  claims ;  the  wilder  they  are,  the  better 


116  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  it  invariably  delights  me  when  the  people  get  them 
f  through/  to  the  utter  consternation  of  the  Government. 
It  has  faintly  dawned  upon  me,  on  two  or  three  such  occa- 
sions, that  I  have  no  political  morality,  and  I  am  afraid 
it  is  a  feminine  failing.  It  is  not  a  masculine  one,  of 
course  ;  so  it  must  be  feminine.  I  wish  you  had  chosen 
a  claim,  Richard,  instead  of  a  railroad.  I  am  sure  it 
would  have  been  far  more  absorbing." 

"  The  railroad  is  quite  absorbing  enough,"  he  answered, 
"  and  there  is  money  enough  involved  in  it.  Just  think 
of  those  Westoria  lands,  and  what  they  will  be  worth  if 
the  road  is  carried  through  them,  —  and  as  to  romance, 
what  could  be  more  romantic  than  the  story  attached  to 
them?" 

"But  I  don't  know  the  story,"  said  Bertha.  "What 
is  it?" 

"It  is  a  very  effective  story,"  he  replied,  "and  it  was 
the  story  which  first  called  my  attention  to  the  subject. 
There  was  a  poor,  visionary  fellow  whose  name  was 
Westor,  to  whom  a  large  tract  of  this  land  came  sud- 
denly as  an  inheritance  from  a  distant  relative.  He  was 
not  practical  enough  to  make  much  use  of  it,  and  he 
lived  in  the  house  upon  it  in  a  desolate,  shiftless  way  for 
several  years,  when  he  had  the  ill-fortune  to  discover 
coal  on  the  place.  I  say  it  was  ill-fortune,  because  the 
discovery  drove  him  wild.  He  worked,  and  starved, 
and  planned,  and  scraped  together  all  the  money  he 
could  to  buy  more  land,  keeping  his  secret  closely  for 
some  time.  When  he  could  do  no  more  he  came  to 
Washington,  and  began  to  work  for  a  railroad  which 
would  make  his  wealth  available.  His  energy  was  a 
kind  of  frenzy,  they  say.  He  neither  ate,  slept,  nor 
rested,  and  really  managed  to  get  the  matter  into  active 
movement.  He  managed  to  awaken  a  kind  of  enthusiasm, 
and,  for  a  short  time,  was  a  good  deal  talked  of  and 
noticed.  He  was  a  big,  raw-boned  young  Westerner, 
and  created  a  sensation  by  his  very  uncouth  ness  in  iti 
connection  with  the  wildly  fabulous  stories  told  about 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  117 

his  wealth.  He  had  among  his  acquaintances  a  man  of 
im.nense  influence,  and  at  this  man's  house  he  met  the 
inevitable  young  woman.  She  amused  herself,  and  he 
fell  madly  in  IOA  e,  and  became  more  frenzied  than  ever. 
Tt  was  said  that  she  intended  to  marry  him  if  he  was 
successful,  and  that  she  made  his  poor,  helpless  life  such 
an  anguish  to  him  that  he  lost  his  balance  entirely. 
There  came  a  time  when  he  was  entirely  penniless,  and 
his  prospects  were  so  unpromising,  and  his  despair  so 
great,  that  he  went  to  his  boarding-house  one  day  with 
the  intention  of  killing  himself,  and  just  as  he  finished 
loading  his  pistol  a  letter  was  handed  in  to  him,  and 
when  he  opened  it  he  found  it  contained  the  information 
that  another  distant  relative,  affected  by  the  rumors  con- 
cerning him,  had  left  him  twenty  thousand  dollars.  He 
(aid  his  pistol  in  a  drawer,  and  left  the  house  to  begin 
again.  He  had  an  interview  with  his  lady-love,  and  one 
with  his  man  of  influence,  and  at  the  end  of  a  few  weeks 
had  bought  more  land,  and  parted  in  some  mysterious 
way  with  the  rest  of  his  money,  and  was  on  the  very 
eve  of  success.  Poor  fellow  !  " 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  Bertha.  "Oh!  don't  say  that 
any  thing  went  wrong  !  " 

"  It  would  not  be  half  so  dramatic  a  story  if  every- 
thing had  gone  right,"  said  Richard,  with  fine  artistic 
appreciation.  "  You  could  never  guess  what  happened. 
Everything  he  did  seemed  to  work  to  a  miracle  ;  every 
train  was  laid  and  every  match  applied.  On  the  day 
that  was  to  decide  his  fate  he  did  not  go  near  the 
Capitol,  but  wandered  out  and  took  his  place  on  one  of 
the  seats  in  the  park  which  faced  the  house  at  which  the 
young  woman  was  visiting,  and  sat  there,  a  lank,  un- 
shorn, haggard  figure,  either  staring  at  her  window  or 
leaning  forward  with  his  head  upon  his  hands.  People 
actually  heard  of  his  being  there  and  went  to  look  at 
him,  and  came  away  without  having  dared  to  address 
him.  The  young  woman  looked  out  from  behind  her 
Wind  and  was  furious,  and  even  sent  word  to  him  to  go 


118  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

away.  IM  he  would  not  go,  and  only  glared  at  th« 
man  \\ho  was  sent  td  him  with  the  message.  He  sat 
there  until  night,  and  then  staggered  across  and  rang  at 
the  bell,  and  inquired  for  the  man  of  influence,  and  was 
told  —  what  do  you  suppose  he  wus  told  ?  " 

"  Oh  1 "  cried  Bertha,  desperately.     " I  don't  know." 

"  He  was  told  that  he  was  occupied." 

"  Occupied  !  "  echoed  Bertha. 

Richard  clasped  his  hands  comfortably  and  gracefully 
behind  his  head. 

"  That'o  the  climax  of  the  story,"  he  said.  "  He  was 
occupied  —  in  being  married  to  the  young  woman,  of 
whom  he  had  been  greatly  enamored  for  some  time,  and 
who  had  discreetly  decided  to  marry  him  because  he  had 
proved  to  her  that  the  other  man's  bill  could  not  possibly 
pass.  It  could  not  pass  because  he  had  the  energy  and 
influence  to  prevent  its  doing  so,  and  he  prevented  its 
passing  because  he  knew  he  would  lose  the  young 
woman  otherwise.  At  least  that  is  the  story,  and  I  like 
the  version." 

"  I  don't  like  it ! "  said  Bertha.  "  It  makes  me  feel 
desperate." 

"  What  it  made  the  poor  fellow  feel,"  Richard  went 
on,  "  nobody  ever  found  out,  as  he  said  nothing  at  all 
about  it.  On  hearing  the  truth  he  sat  down  on  the  steps 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  got  up  and  went  away.  He 
went  to  his  boarding-house  and  had  an  interview  with 
his  landlady,  who  was  a  kind-hearted  creature,  and  when 
she  saw  him  began  to  cry  because  his  bill  had  not 
passed.  But  when  she  spoke  of  it  she  found  he  knew 
nothing  of  it ;  he  had  never  asked  about  it,  and  he  said 
to  her,  '  Oh  !  that  doesn't  matter,  —  it  isn't  of  any  con- 
sequence particularly ;  I'm  only  troubled  about  your  bill. 
I  haven't  money  enough  to  pay  it.  I've  only  enough  to 
take  me  home,  and  you'll  have  to  let  me  give  you  the 
things  I  have  in  my  room  for  pay.  I  only  want  one 
thing  out  of  there,  —  if  you'll  let  me  go  and  get  it  I 
won't  take  anything  else.  So  she  let  him  go,  and  stood 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  113 

outside  his  door  and  cried,  while  he  went  in  and  tool* 
something  out  of  a  drawer." 

"  Richard  ! "  cried  Bertha. 

"Yes,"  said  Richard.  "He  actually  found  a  use  foi 
it,  after  all  — but  not  in  Washington.  He  went  as  far 
as  he  could  by  rail,  and  then  he  tramped  the  rest  of  the 
way  to  Westoria;  they  say  it  must  have  taken  him 
several  days,  and  that  his  shoes  were  worn  to  shreds, 
and  his  feet  cut  and  bruised  by  the  walk.  When  he 
reached  the  house,  it  had  been  shut  up  so  long  that  the 
honeysuckle  which  climbed  about  it  had  grown  across 
the  door,  and  he  could  not  have  got  in  without  break- 
ing or  pushing  it  aside.  People  fancied  that  at  first  ho 
thought  of  going  in,  but  that  when  he  saw  the  vine  it 
stopped  him,  —  slight  barrier  as  it  was.  They  thought 
he  had  intended  to  go  in  because  he  had  evidently  gone 
to  the  door,  and  before  he  turned  away  had  broken  off 
a  spray  of  the  flowers  which  was  just  beginning  to 
bloom ;  he  held  it  crushed  in  his  hand  when  they  found 
him,  two  or  three  days  later.  He  had  carried  it  back 
to  the  edge  of  the  porch,  and  had  sat  down  —  and  fin- 
ished everything  —  with  the  only  thing  he  had  brought 
back  from  Washington  —  the  pistol.  How  does  that 
strike  you  as  the  romance  of  a  railroad?" 

Bertha  clenched  her  hand,  and  struck  her  knee  a 
fierce  little  blow. 

"Richard,"  she  said,  "if  that  had  happened  in  my 
day  I  should  have  turned  lobbyist,  and  every  thought, 
and  power,  and  gift  I  had  would  have  been  brought  to 
bear  to  secure  the  passage  of  that  bill." 

Richard  laughed,  —  a  pleased  but  slightly  nervous 
laugh. 

"Suppose  you  bring  them  to  bear  now,"  he  sug- 
gested. 

"There  would  not  be  any  reason  for  my  doing  it 
now,"  she  answered;  "but  I  shall  certainly  »e  inter- 
ested." 

Richard  laughed  again. 


120  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

w  By  Jove  I  "  he  said,  "  the  poor  devils  who  own  it 
would  think  there  was  reason  enough ! " 

"  Who  owns  it?" 

"Several  people,  who  speculated  in  it  because  the 
railroad  was  talked  of  again,  and  on  a  more  substantial 
footing.  It  fell  to  Westor's  only  living  relation,  who 
was  an  ignorant  old  woman,  and  sold  it  without  having 
any  idea  of  its  real  value.  Her  impression  was  that,  if 
she  kept  it,  it  would  bring  her  ill-luck.  There  is  no 
denying  that  it  looks  just  now  like  a  magnificent  specu 
lation." 

"  And  that  poor  fellow,"  said  Bertha,  —  "that^oor 
fellow"  — 

"That  poor  fellow?"  Richard  interposed.  "Yes  — 
but  his  little  drama  is  over,  you  know,  and  perhaps 
there  are  others  going  on  quite  as  interesting,  if  we  only 
knew  them.  It  is  very  like  you,  Bertha  —  and  it  is 
very  adorable,"  touching  her  shoulder  caressingly  with 
his  hand,  "to  lose  sight  entirely  of  the  speculation,  and 
care  only  for  the  poor  fellow.  You  insist  upon  having 
your  little  drama  under  all  circumstances." 

"  Yes,"  she  admitted.  "  I  confess  that  I  like  my  little 
drama,  and  I  have  not  a  doubt  that —  as  I  said  before  — 
I  could  not  have  lived  in  the  midst  of  that  without  turn- 
ing lobbyist  —  which  is  certainly  not  my  vocation." 

"Not  your  vocation?"  said  Richard.  "You  would 
make  the  most  successful  little  lobbyist  in  the  world  !  " 

Bertha  turned  upon  him  an  incredulous  and  rather 
bewildered  smile. 

"  I !"  she  exclaimed.     "I? 

"Yes,  you!" 

w  Well,"  she  replied,  after  a  second's  pause  given  to 
inspection  of  him,  "  this  is  open  derision !  " 

"  It  is  perfectly  true,"  was  his  response  ;  "  and  it  is 
true  for  good  reasons.  Your  strength  would  lie  in  the 
very  fact  that  you  would  be  entirely  unlike  your  co- 
laborers  in  the  field.  You  have  a  finished  little  air  oJ 
ingenuousness  which  would  be  your  fortune." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  121 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  pretty  gesture. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  am  very  clever,  and  of  course 
you  cannot  help  observing  it,  but  I  am  not  clever  enough 
for  that." 

He  gave  her  a  glance  at  once  curious  and  admiring. 

"By  Jove  !"  he  exclaimed,  "it  is  my  belief  you  a? a 
clever  enough  for  anything." 

"Richard,"  she  said,  "shall  I  tell  you  a  secret?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  will  bury  it  in  the  innermost  recesses  of 
your  soul,  and  never  divulge  it?" 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  brace  yourself  for  a  shock  when  I  reveal  it  to 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  here  it  is  I  My  cleverness  is  like  what  you 
—  and  two  or  three  other  most  charming  people  —  are 
good  enough  to  call  my  prettiness.  It  is  a  delusion  and 
a  snare  I " 

"Come  I"  he  said.  "You  are  attempting  to  deceive 
me." 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  attempting  to  undeceive 
you.  I  am  not  really  pretty  or  clever  at  all,  and  it  has 
been  the  object  of  my  life  to  prevent  its  being  detected." 

She  opened  her  eyes  in  the  most  charmingly  ingenuous 
manner  and  nodded  her  head. 

"  I  discovered  it  myself,"  she  said,  "  long  ago,  —  com- 
paratively early  in  life,  —  and  resolved  to  conceal  it. 
And  nothing  but  the  confidence  I  repose  in  you  would 
have  induced  me  to  mention  it." 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  you  have  concealed  it  pretty  well 
under  the  circumstances." 

"  Ah  I "  she  said,  "  but  you  don't  know  what  a  burden 
it  is  to  carry  about,  and  what  subterfuges  I  have  to  resort 
tf>  when  I  seem  on  the  very  verge  of  being  found  out. 
There  is  Larry,  for  instance,  —  I  am  almost  sure  that 
Larry  suspects  me,  especially  when  I  am  tired,  or  chance 
to  wear  an  unbecoming  gown.  You  know  how  particulai 


122  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

t  am  about  my  gowns?  Well,  that  is  my  secret.  I 
haven't  an  attraction,  really,  but  my  gowns  and  my 
spirits  and  my  speciousness.  The  solitary  thing  I  do 
feel  I  have  reason  to  pride  myself  on  is  that  I  am  bold 
enough  to  adapt  my  gowns  in  such  a  way  as  to  persuade 
you  that  I  am  physically  responsible  for  the  color  and 
shape  of  them.  You  fancy  you  are  pleased  with  me 
when  you  are  simply  pleased  with  some  color  of  which 
I  exist  on  the  reflection  or  glow.  In  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  it  is  merely  a  matter  of  pale  blue  or  pink,  and  silk 
or  crepe  or  cashmere ;  and  in  the  tenth  it  is  nothing  but 
spirits  and  speciousness." 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  denying  that  you  would 
make  a  wonderful  lobbyist." 

"  Well,"  she  answered,  rising  and  going  to  the  table 
to  lay  her  fan  down,  "  when  you  invest  largely  in 
Westoria  lands  and  require  my  services  in  that  capacity, 
I  will  try  to  distinguish  myself.  I  think  I  should  like 
to  begin  with  the  Westoria  lands  if  I  begin  at  all.  But 
in  the  meantime  I  must  go  upstairs  and  talk  to  the 
seamstress  about  Janey's  new  white  dresses.  You  are 
cool  enough  now  to  enjoy  your  lunch  when  the  bell 
rings  and  you  shall  have  some  iced  tea  if  you  would  like  it . " 

"  I  would  like  it  very  well,  and,  by  the  by,  did 
Tredennis  bring  the  '  Clarion/  as  he  said  he  would?  " 

"Yes,  it  is  here,"  and  she  handed  it  to  him  from 
the  table.  "You  can  read  it  while  I  am  upstairs." 

"Have  you  read  it?"  he  said,  opening  it  and  turning 
to  the  editorial. 

"Not  yet.     I  shall  read  it  this  afternoon." 

"Yes,  do.  The  facts  are  put  very  forcibly.  And  — 
you  will  decide  not  to  go  to  Fortress  Monroe  just  yet  ?  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  but  he  did  not  observe  it. 

"I  must  be  here  when  your  friends  dine  with  you,  of 
course,"  she  said.  "And  a  week  or  even  a  little  more 
does  not  make  so  much  difference,  after  all.  It  may 
be  quite  cool  again  to-morrow." 

And  she  went  out  of  the  room  and  left  him  to  his  paper 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  123 


CHAPTER    XI. 

IT  was  two  weeks  after  this  that  Aibuthnot,  saunter- 
ing down  the  avenue  in  a  leisurely  manner,  on  his  way 
from  his  office,  and  having  a  fancy  to  stroll  through 
Lafayette  Park,  which  was  looking  its  best  in  its  spring 
bravery  and  bloom,  on  entering  the  iron  gate- way  found 
his  attention  attracted  by  the  large  figure  of  Colonel 
Tredennis,  who  was  approaching  him  from  the  opposite 
direction,  walking  slowly  and  appearing  deeply  ab- 
stracted. It  cannot  be  said  that  Mr.  Arbuthnot  felt 
any  special  delight  in  the  prospective  encounter.  He 
had  not  felt  that  he  had  advanced  greatly  in  Colonel 
Tredennis'  good  opinion,  and  had,  it  must  be  confessed, 
resigned  himself  to  that  unfortunate  condition  of  affaire, 
without  making  any  particular  effort  to  remedy  it,  — 
his  private  impression  being  that  the  result  would 
scarcely  be  likely  to  pay  for  the  exertion,  taking  into 
consideration  the  fact  that  he  was  constitutionally  averse 
to  exertion. 

"  Why,"  he  had  said  to  Bertha,  "  should  I  waste  my 
vital  energies  in  endeavoring  to  persuade  a  man  that  I 
am  what  he  wants,  when  perhaps  I  am  not?  There  are 
scores  of  people  who  will  naturally  please  him  better 
than  I  do,  and  there  are  people  enough  who  please  me 
better  than  he  does.  Let  him  take  his  choice,  —  and  it 
is  easy  enough  to  see  that  I  am  not  his  choice." 

"What  is  he  thinking  of  now,  I  wonder?"  he  said,  a 
vague  plan  for  turning  into  another  walk  flitting  through 
his  mind.  "Are  his  friends,  the  Piutes,  on  the  war-path 
and  actively  engaged  in  dissecting  agents,  or  is  he  simply 
out  of  humor?  He  is  not  thinking  of  where  he  is  going. 
He  will  walk  over  that  nursemaid  and  obliterate  thi 
twins  —  yes,  I  thought  so." 


124  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

The  colonel  had  verified  his  prophecy,  and,  aroused 
from  his  reverie  by  the  devastation  he  had  caused,  he 
came  to  a  stand-still  with  a  perplexed  and  distressed 
countenance. 

"I  beg  your  pardon/*  Arbuthnot  heard  him  say,  in 
his  great,  deep  voice.  "I  hope  I  did  not  hurt  you.  I 
had  forgotten  where  I  was."  And  he  stooped  and  set 
the  nearest  twin  on  its  feet  on  the  grass  and  then 
did  the  same  thing  for  the  other,  upon  which  both 
stood  and  stared  at  him,  and,  not  being  hurt  at  all, 
having  merely  rolled  over  on  the  sod,  were  in  suffi- 
ciently good  spirits  to  regard  with  interest  the  fact  that 
he  was  fumbling  in  his  coat-pocket  for  something. 

The  article  in  question  was  a  package  of  bonbons, 
which  he  produced  and  gave  to  the  nearest  toddler. 

"  Here  ! "  he  said.  "  I  bought  these  for  another  little 
girl,  but  I  can  get  some  more.  They  are  all  right,"  he 
added,  turning  to  the  mulatto  girl,  whose  admiration  of 
his  martial  bearing  revealed  itself  in  a  most  lenient  grin, 
—  "they  won't  hurt  them.  They  can  eat  them  all 
without  being  harmed." 

And  then  he  turned  away,  and  in  doing  so  caught 
sight  of  Arbuthnot,  and,  somewhat  to  the  surprise  of  the 
latter,  advanced  toward  him  at  once  with  the  evident 
intention  of  joining  him. 

"  It  is  rather  a  curious  thing  that  I  should  meet  you 
here,"  he  said.  "  I  was  thinking  of  you  when  I  met 
with  the  catastrophe  you  saw  just  now.  Do  you  often 
go  home  this  way  ?  " 

"  Not  very  often,"  Arbuthnot  replied.  "  Sometimes, 
when  things  look  as  they  do  now,"  with  a  gesture  indi- 
cating the  brilliant  verdure. 

"  Everything  looks  very  fresh  and  luxuriant,"  said 
Trodennis.  "The  season  is  unusually  far  advanced,  I 
suppose.  It  is  sometimes  a  great  deal  too  warm  to  be 
pleasant." 

wlt  will  be  decidedly  warmer  every  day,*'  said 
Arbuthnot.  "We  shall  have  a  trying  summer,  The 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  125 

President  is  going  out  to  the  Soldiers'  Home  next  week 
—  which  is  earlier  than  usual.  There  are  only  two  or 
three  of  the  senators'  families  left  in  the  city.  The 
exodus  began  weeks  ago." 

"  Such  weather  as  we  have  had  the  last  few  days," 
said  the  colonel,  with  his  slight  frown,  "'must  be  very 
exhausting  to  those  who  are  not  strong,  and  who  have 
gone  through  a  gay  winter." 

"  The  best  thing  such  people  can  do,"  responded 
Arbuthnot,  dryly,  "  is  to  make  their  way  to  the  moun. 
tains  or  the  sea  as  soon  as  possible.  Most  of  them  do." 

Tredennis'  reply  was  characteristically  abrupt. 

"Mrs.  Amory  does  not,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  answered  Arbuthnot,  and  he  looked  at  the 
end  of  his  cigar  as  if  he  saw  nothing  else. 

"Why  doesn't  she?"  demanded  Tredennis. 

"  She  ought  to,"  said  Arbuthnot,  with  calm  adroitness. 

"Ought  to!"  Tredennis  repeated.  "She  should 
have  gone  months  ago.  She  —  she  is  actually  ill. 
Why  in  heaven's  name  does  she  stay?  She  told  me 
two  weeks  since  that  she  was  going  to  Fortress  Monroe, 
or  some  such  place." 

"  She  had  better  go  to  a  New  England  farm-house, 
and  wear  a  muslin  gown  and  swing  in  a  hammock,"  said 
Arbuthnot. 

"You  see  that  as  well,  do  you?"  said  the  colonel. 
w  Why  don't  you  tell  her  so  ?  "  and  having  said  it,  seemed 
to  pull  himself  up  suddenly,  as  if  he  felt  he  had  been 
unconsciously  impetuous. 

Arbuthnot  laughed. 

llis  smile  had  died  completely  away,  however,  when 
he  gave  his  side  glance  at  his  companion's  face  a  moment 
later. 

"  She  was  quite  serious  in  her  intention  of  going 
away  two  weeks  ago,"  he  said.  "  She  told  me  so ; 
nothing  but  Richard's  dinner-party  prevented  her 
departure  in  the  first  place." 

He   spoke   in    an    entirely  non-committal  tone,    but 


126  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

there  was  a  touch  of  interest  in  his  quiet  glance   at 
Tredennis. 

"You  dined  there  with  Planefield  and  the  rest,  didn't 
you?"  he  added. 

"Yes." 

WI  didn't.  Richard  was  kind  enough  to  invite  me, 
but  I  should  only  have  been  in  the  way."  He  paused 
an  instant,  and  then  added,  without  any  change  of  tone 
or  manner,  "  I  know  nothing  of  the  Westoria  lands." 

"  Was  it  necessary  that  you  should  ?  "  said  Tredennis. 
« I  did  not." 

"Oh,"  Arbathnot  answered,  "I  knew  they  would 
discuss  them>  and  the  bill,  as  it  pleases  Amory  to  bo 
interested  in  them  just  now." 

"  I  remember  that  the  matter  was  referred  to  several 
times,"  said  Tredennis ;  "  even  Mrs.  Amory  seemed  to 
know  a  good  deal  of  it." 

"  A  good  deal ! "  said  Arbuthnot.  "  In  favor  of  the 
Dill?" 

"  Yes,"  Tredennis  answered.  "  She  had  been  reading 
up,  it  appeared.  She  said  some  very  good  things  about 
it  —  in  a  laughing  way.  Why  does  she  waste  her  time 
and  strength  on  such  folly  ?  "  he  added,  hotly.  "  Why  — 
why  is  she  allowed  to  do  it?" 

"  The  New  England  farm  would  be  better  for  her  just 
now,"  said  Arbuthnot  —  again  adroitly. 

"Why  should  Amory  waste  his  time  upon  it?"  the 
colonel  went  on ;  "  though  that  is  his  affair,  of  course, 
and  not  mine  ! " 

They  had  reached  the  gate  by  this  time,  but  they  did 
not  pass  through  it.  Finding  themselves  near  it,  they 
turned  —  as  if  by  mutual  consent,  and  yet  without 
speaking  of  doing  so  —  into  the  walk  nearest  them. 

It  was  after  taking  a  few  steps  in  silence  down  thi& 
path,  that  Colonel  Tredennis  spoke  again,  abruptly  : 

w  When  I  was  thinking  of  you  just  before  we  met,"  he 
said,  "  I  was  thinking  of  you  in  connection  with — with 
the  Amory s." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION .  127 

He  knew  the  statement  had  a  blunt  enough  sound, 
and  his  recognition  of  it  irritated  him,  but  he  was  begin- 
ning to  be  accustomed  to  his  own  bluntness  of  state- 
ment, and,  at  any  rate,  this  led  him  to  the  point  he 
meant  to  reach. 

Arbuthnot's  reply  was  characteristic.  It  was  not 
blunt  at  all,  and  had  an  air  of  simple  directness,  which 
was  the  result  not  only  of  a  most  creditable  tact  and 
far-sightedness,  but  of  more  private  good  feeling  and 
sincerity  than  he  was  usually  credited  with. 

"  I  am  always  glad  to  be  thought  of  in  connection 
with  the  Amorys,"  he  said.  "  And  I  am  glad  that  it  is 
perfectly  natural  that  I  should  be  connected  with  them 
in  the  minds  of  their  friends.  There  has  been  a  very 
close  connection  between  us  for  several  years,  and  I 
hope  they  have  found  as  much  pleasure  in  it  as  I  have." 

Tredennis  recognized  the  tact  even  if  he  was  not 
aware  of  the  good  feeling  and  far-sightedness.  The 
obstacles  had  been  removed  from  his  path,  and  the  con- 
versation had  received  an  air  of  unconstrained  natural- 
ness, which  would  make  it  easier  for  him  to  go  on. 

"  Then,"  he  said,  "  there  will  be  no  need  to  explain 
what  I  mean  by  saying  that  I  was  thinking  specially  of 
your  interest  in  Mrs.  Amory  herself — and  your  influ- 
ence over  her." 

"  I  wish  my  influence  over  her  was  as  strong  as  my 
interest  in  her,"  was  his  companion's  reply.  "  My  in- 
terest in  her  is  a  sincere  enough  feeling,  and  a  deep 
one.  There  is  every  reason  why  it  should  be." 

«I," — began  the  colonel,  — "  I " —  And  then  he  stopped. 

"Your  interest  in  her,"  Arbuthnot  went  on,  seeming  to 
enjoy  his  cigar  very  much,  "  is  even  a  more  natuial 
feeling  than  mine  —  though  I  scarcely  think  it  can  be 
stronger.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  relationship  so  much,  — 
as  a  rule,  relationship  does  not  amount  to  a  great  deal, 
—  but  the  fact  that  you  knew  her  as  a  girl,  and  feel 
toward  the  professor  as  you  do,  must  give  her  a  distinct 
place  in  your  mind." 


128  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"It  is  a  feeling,"  said  Tredennis,  "which  disturbs  ma 
when  I  see  that  she  is  in  actual  danger  through  her  own 
want  of  care  for  herself.  Are  women  always  so  reck 
less?  Is  it  a  Washington  fashion?  Why  should  she 
forget  that  her  children  need  her  care,  if  she  does  not 
choose  to  think  of  herself?  Is  that  a  Washington 
fashion,  too?" 

"You  were  thinking,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "and  flatter- 
ing me  in  doing  it,  that  what  I  might  say  to  her  on  the 
necessity  of  leaving  the  city  might  have  some  little 
effect?" 

"Yes,"  Tredennis  answered.  "  And  if  not  upon  her- 
self, upon  Amory.  He  is  always  ready  to  listen  to 
you." 

Arbuthnot  was  silent  for  some  moments.  He  was 
following  a  certain  train  of  thought  closely  and  rapidly, 
but  his  expression  did  not  betray  him  at  all. 

"She  would  have  gone  two  weeks  ago,"  he  said 
quietly  next,  "  if  it  had  not  been  for  Richard's  engage- 
ments with  Planefield  and  the  rest.  He  has  had  them 
at  his  house  two  or  three  times  since  then,  and  they 
have  made  little  parties  to  Mount  Vernon  and  Arlington 
and  Great  Falls.  Planefield  is  a  lady's  man,  and  he 
finds  Mrs.  Amory  very  charming." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Tredennis,  with  intolerant 
haughtiness,  —  "that  coarse  fellow?" 

"He  isn't  a  nice  fellow,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "but  he 
won't  show  his  worst  side  to  her  —  any  more  than  he 
can  help.  He  is  a  very  powerful  fellow,  they  say." 

Here  he  stopped.  They  had  reached  their  gate-wa~ 
again. 

"I'll  do  what  I  can,"  he  said.  "It  won't  be  much, 
perhaps ;  but  I  will  do  what  I  can.  I  fully  appreciate 
the  confidence  you  showed  in  speaking  to  me." 

"  I  fully  appreciate  the  manner  in  which  you  listened 
to  what  I  had  to  say,"  said  Tredennis. 

And,  somewhat  to  A  rbuthnot's  surprise,  he  held  out 
his  hand  to  him. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  129 


CHAPTER 

INSTEAD  of  making  his  way  home  at  once  Arbuthnot 
turned  up  the  side  of  the  street  on  which  the  Amorys" 
house  stood.  As  he  reached  the  house  the  door  was 
opened,  and  a  man  came  out  and  walked  down  the 
steps.  He  was  a  man  with  a  large  frame,  a  darkly 
florid  complexion,  and  heavily  handsome  features.  As 
he  passed  Arbuthnot  he  gave  him  a  glance  and  a  rather 
grudging  bow,  which  expressed  candidly  exactly  the 

amount   of   pleasure    he    derived    from    encountering 
,  .  ° 

him. 

Bertha  was  in  the  parlor  alone.  When  Arbuthnot 
entered  he  found  her  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
looking  down  at  the  roses  on  her  gayly  painted  fan,  and 
evidently  not  seeing  them. 

"Well,"  he  began,  by  way  of  greeting,  "I  hope  you 
have  been  enjoying  yourself — with  your  senators." 

She  looked  up,  and  made  a  quick,  eager  little  move- 
ment toward  him,  as  if  she  was  more  glad  to  see  him 
than  usual. 

"  Ah  ! "  she  exclaimed.  w  I  believe  I  was  wishing  you 
would  come." 

"Thank  you,"  he  said;  "but  the  compliment  would 
be  greater  if  you  were  sure  of  it." 

"I  think  I  am  sure  of  it,  now  you  are  here,"  she 
answered,  "  though  I  don't  know  at  all  why  I  wanted 
you  —  unless  it  was  to  tell  you  that  I  have  not  been  en 
joying  myself  in  the  least  —  with  my  senators." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,"  he  replied.  "  Nothing 
could  please  me  better.  They  are  always  too  numer- 
ous, and  lately  one  is  continue  Hy  meeting  them  on  the 
steps  and  being  scowled  at." 

She  shut  her  fan  quickly,  With  a  slight  frown. 


130  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Why  scowled  at?"  she  said.  "That  would  be  ab- 
surd enough." 

"Absurd  or  not,"  he  laughed,  "it  is  true." 

But,  notwithstanding  his  laugh,  there  was  no  change 
in  her  face  he  did  not  see. 

They  had  seated  themselves  by  this  time,  and  Bertha 
was  looking  at  her  fan  again,  and  opening  and  shutting 
it  slowly. 

"They  are  not  my  senators,"  she  said.  "They  are 
Richard's,  and  —  I  am  getting  a  little  tired  of  them, 
though  I  should  not  like  to  tell  him  so.  When  it  is 
warm,  as  it  is  to-day,  I  am  very  tired  of  them." 

"I  should  not  think  it  at  all  improbable,"  remarked 
Arbuthnot,  dryly.  "  It  has  struck  me  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  the  mercury  to  be  several  degrees  below 
zero  before  you  would  find  the  one  who  went  out  just 
now,  for  instance,  especially  exhilarating." 

"  He  is  not  exhilarating  at  all,"  she  said.  "  Richard 
likes  him,"  she  added,  a  moment  afterward.  "  I  don't 
know  exactly  why,  but  he  really  seems  to  admire  him. 
They  are  quite  intimate.  I  think  the  acquaintance  be- 
gan through  some  law  business  he  gave  him  in  connec- 
tion with  the  Westoria  lands.  I  have  tried  to  like  him 
on  Richard's  account.  You  must  remember,"  she  said, 
with  a  smile,  "I  first  tried  to  like  you  on  Richard's 
account." 

"I  hope  you  succeeded  better  than  you  will  with 
Planefield,"  he  said. 

"  I  might  succeed  with  him  if  I  persevered  long 
enough,"  she  answered.  "  The  difficulty  lies  in  the  per- 
severance. Richard  says  I  would  make  a  good  lobbyist, 
but  I  am  sure  I  should  not.  I  could  not  be  persist- 
ently amiable  and  entertaining  to  people  who  tired 
me." 

"Don't  deplore  your  deficiencies  until  it  becomei 
necessary  for  you  to  enter  the  profession,"  said  Arbuth- 
not. "  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  speak  of  it,"  he  added, 
with  a  touch  of  sharpness. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  131 

"I  don't  deplore  them,"  said  Bertha.  "And  it  ia 
only  one  of  my  little  jokes.  But,  if  the  fortunes  of  the 
Westoria  lands  depended  on  me,  I  am  afraid  they  would 
be  a  dismal  failure." 

"As  they  don't  depend  on  you,"  he  remarked, 
"  doesn't  it  occur  to  you  that  you  might  as  well  leave 
them  to  Sejaator  Planefield  ?  I  must  confess  it  has  pre- 
sented itself  to  ine  in  that  light." 

"It  is  rather  odd,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  reflection, 
w  that  though  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  them, 
they  actually  seem  to  have  detained  me  in  town  for  the 
last  two  weeks." 

"  It  is  quite  time  you  went  away,"  said  Arbuthnot. 

"  I  know  that,"  she  answered.  "  And  I  feel  it  more 
every  day." 

She  raised  her  eyes  suddenly  to  his. 

"Laurence,"  she  said,  "I  am  not  well.  Don't  tell 
Richard,  but  I  think  I  am  not  well  at  all.  I  —  I  am 
restless  and  nervous  —  and  —  and  morbid.  I  am  actu- 
ally morbid.  Things  trouble  me  which  never  troubled 
me  before.  Sometimes  I  lose  all  respect  for  myself. 
You  know  I  always  was  rather  proud  of  my  self-control. 
I  am  not  quite  as  proud  of  it  as  I  used  to  be.  About 
two  weeks  ago  I  —  I  positively  lost  my  temper." 

He  did  not  laugh,  as  she  had  been  half-afraid  he 
vrould.  His  manner  was  rather  quiet ;  on  the  contrary 
-  -  it  was  as  if  what  she  said  struck  him  as  being  worth 
listening  to  with  some  degree  of  serious  attention, 
though  his  reply  was  not  exactly  serious. 

"I  hope  you  had  sufficient  reason,"  he  said. 

w  No,"  she  answered.  "  I  had  no  reason  at  all,  which 
makes  it  all  the  more  humiliating.  I  think  I  have  been 
rather  irritable  for  a  month  or  two.  I  have  allowed 
myself  to  —  to  be  disturbed  by  things  which  were  really 
of  no  consequence,  and  I  have  taken  offence  at  things 
and  —  and  —  resented  trifles,  and  it  was  the  merest  trifle 
which  made  me  lose  my  temper  —  yes,  actually  lose  my 
temper,  and  say  what  I  did  not  intend  to  say,  in  the 


132  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

most  open  and  abject  manner.  What  could  be  more 
abject  than  to  say  things  you  did  not  intend  to  say  ? 
You  know  I  never  was  given  to  that  kind  of  thing." 

"No,"  he  responded,  "it  cannot  be  said  that  you 
were." 

"  It  was  so  —  so  revolting  to  me  after  it  was  over," 
she  went  on,  w  that  it  seemed  to  make  me  more  weak- 
minded  than  ever.  When  you  once  give  way  to  your 
emotions  it  is  all  going  down-hill  —  you  do  it  again  and 
again.  I  never  did  it  before,  but  I  have  been  on  the 
verge  of  doing  it  two  or  three  times  since." 

w  Don't  go  any  farther  than  the  verge,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  intend  to,"  she  answered.  "I  don't  like 
even  the  verge.  I  resent  it  with  all  my  strength.  I 
should  like  to  invent  some  kind  of  horrible  torture  to 
pay  myself  for  —  for  what  I  did." 

He  was  watching  her  very  closely,  but  she  was  not 
aware  of  it.  She  had  arrested  his  attention  completely 
enough  by  this  time,  and  the  fact  made  itself  evident 
in  his  intent  and  rather  startled  expression. 

"I  hope  it  was  nothing  very  serious,"  he  said. 

"It  was  serious  enough  for  me,"  she  replied.  "No- 
body else  was  hurt,  but  it  was  serious  enough  for  me  — 
the  mere  knowing  that  for  a  few  minutes  I  had  lost  my 
hold  on  myself.  I  didn't  like  it  —  I  didn't  like  it  I " 

There  was  an  intensity  in  her  manner,  in  her  voice,  in 
her  face,  in  her  very  figure  itself,  which  was  curiously 
dispropDrtionate  to  her  words.  She  leaned  forward  a 
little,  and  laid  her  small,  clenched  hand  upon  her  knee. 

"  In  all  my  life,"  she  said,  slowly,  —  "  in  all  my  life,  I 
have  never  had  a  feeling  which  was  as  strong  as  myself. 
I  have  been  that  fortunate.  I  have  been  angry,  but 
never  so  angry  that  I  could  not  seem  perfectly  still  and 
calm ;  I  have  been  happy,  but  never  so  happy  that  I 
could  not  have  hidden  it  if  I  chose ;  I  have  been  un- 
happy —  fir  a  moment  or  so  —  but  never  so  unhappy 
that  I  had  the  horrible  anguish  of  being  found  out.  1 
am  not  capable  of  strong,  real  emotions,  I  am  too 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

shallow  and  —  and  light.  I  have  been  light  all  my  life, 
and  I  will  be  light  until  the  end. 

"Only  the  children  could  make  me  suffer,  really, "she 
said  after  it,  —  "only  the  children,  and  all  women  are 
like  that.  Through  Janey,  or  Jack,  or  Meg,  my  heart 
could  be  torn  in  two,  if  they  were  in  pain,  or  badly 
treated,  or  taken  from  me,  —  that  is  nothing  but  common 
nature ;  but  nothing  else  could  hurt  me  so  that  I  should 
cry  out  —  nothing  and  nobody  —  not  even  Richard  ! " 

She  stopped  herself,  and  opened  her  fan  again. 

"  There ! "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why  did  t  say  so 
much  then,  and  say  it  so  vehemently,  as  if  it  was  of 
consequence?  Nothing  is  of  consequence  —  nothing, 
nothing  \ "  And  she  laughed,  and  rose  and  began  to  take 
up  and  set  down  again  some  trifles  on  the  mantel. 

Arbuthnot  still  watched  her. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  you  are  quite  right ;  nothing  is  of 
consequence  really,  and  the  sooner  one  learns  that,  the 
better  for  one's  peace  of  mind.  The  worst  pain  you  could 
have  to  bear  could  not  last  you  more  than  a  few  score 
years,  and  you  would  get  used  to  it  in  that  time ;  the 
greatest  happiness  you  could  yearn  for  would  not  last  any 
longer,  and  you  would  get  tired  of  it  in  time,  too." 

"  Tired  of  it  I "  she  echoed.  "  One  could  tire  of  any- 
thing in  threescore  years  and  ten.  How  tired  one 
must  be  of  one's  self  before  it  is  over  —  how  tired  I  how 
tired ! "  and  she  threw  up  her  hands  in  a  sudden,  des- 
perate gesture. 

"No, "he  answered,  in  a  tone  whose  level  coolness 
was  a  forcible  contrast  to  her  own.  "  Not  necessarily, 
if  one  doesn't  expect  too  much.  If  we  take  things  for 
what  they  are  worth,  and  don't  let  ourselves  be  deceived 
by  them,  there  is  plenty  of  rational  entertainment  to  be 
bad  by  the  way.  We  mayn't  like  it  quite  as  well  as 
what  we  set  out  with  expecting,  but  we  can  manage  to 
subsist  upon  it.  I  hope  I  am  logical.  I  know  I  am  not 
eloquent."  He  said  it  bitterly. 

"No,"  she  returned,  without  looking  at  him,  "you 


134  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

are  not  eloquent,  perhaps,  but  you  are  speaking  the 
truth  —  and  I  like  to  hear  it.  I  want  to  hear  it.  It  is 
good  for  me.  It  is  always  good  for  people  to  hear  the 
truth;  the  bare,  unvarnished,  unadorned  truth.  Go 
on." 

"If  I  go  on,"  he  said,  still  bitterly,  "I  shall  begin  to 
drag  myself  in,  and  I  don't  care  to  do  it.  It  is  natural 
that  I  should  feel  the  temptation.  I  never  knew  the 
man  yet  who  could  talk  in  this  strain  and  not  drag  him- 
self in." 

"  Drag  yourself  in  as  much  as  you  like,"  she  said, 
even  fiercely,  "and  be  an  example  to  me." 

"  I  should  be  example  enough  if  I  said  all  I  could," 
he  replied.  "  Am  /  a  happy  man?  " 

She  turned,  and  for  a  moment  they  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes ;  his  were  stern,  hard,  and  miserable. 

"  No,"  she  cried  out,  "  you  are  not.  No  one  is  happy 
in  the  world ! "  And  she  dropped  her  face  upon  her 
hands  as  she  leaned  upon  the  mantel. 

"  I  might  have  been  happier  if  I  had  begun  right,  I 
suppose,"  he  said. 

"  Begun  ! "  she  repeated.  "Does  any  one  ever  begin 
right?  One  ought  to  begin  at  the  end  and  go  back- 
ward, and  then  one  might  make  something  of  it  all." 

"  I  didn't  make  much  of  it,"  he  said.  "  I  was  not  as 
wise  as  you.  I  began  with  emotions,  and  follies,  and  fires, 
—  and  the  rest  of  it,  and  the  enjoyment  I  derived  from 
them  was  scarcely  what  I  anticipated  it  would  be.  The 
emotions  didn't  last,  and  the  follies  didn't  pay,  and  the 
fires  burnt  out — and  that  was  the  worst  of  all.  And 
they  always  do  —  and  that  is  worse  still.  It  is  in  the 
nature  of  things.  Look  at  that  grate,"  pointing  to  it. 
"It  looked  different  a  week  ago,  when  we  had  a  rainy 
nighb  and  sat  around  it.  We  could  have  burned  our- 
selves at  it  then  if  we  had  been  feeble-minded  enough 
to  try  it ;  we  couldn't  do  it  now ;  and  yet  a  few  days 
ago  it  was  hot  enough.  The  fire  has  burned  out,  and 
even  the  ashes  are  gone." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  135 

She  stooped  down,  picked  up  her  fan,  and  reseated 
herself  upon  the  sofa.  She  did  not  look  quite  like  herself, 

—  her  face  was  very  pale  but  for  the  two  red  spots  Tre- 
dennis   had   seen  on  her  cheeks  when   her  display  of 
feeling  had  startled  him ;  but  all  at  once  a  change  had 
taken  place  in  her  manner.     There  was  a  sort  of  deadly 
stillness  in  it. 

"  We  are  a  long  way  from  my  temper,"  she  said,  — 
"a  long  way." 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "about  as  far  as  we  could  get  in 
the  space  of  time  allowed  us;  and  we  have  been  a 
trifle  emotional." 

"And  it  was  my  fault,"  she  continued.  "Isn't  it 
time  I  went  somewhere  cool  and  bracing  ?  I  think  you 
must  admit  it  is." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  *  it  is  time.  Take  my  advice,  and 
go." 

"Til  go,"  she  said,  steadily,  "the  day  after  to-mor- 
row. And  I'll  not  go  to  Fortress  Munroe.  I'll  go  into 
the  mountains  of  Virginia,  — to  a  farm-house  I  know  of, 
where  one  has  forests,  and  silence,  and  nature  —  and 
nothing  else.  I'll  take  the  children,  and  live  out-of- 
doors  with  them,  and  read  to  them,  and  talk  to  them, 
and  sew  for  them  when  I  want  anything  to  do.  I  always 
was  happy  and  natural  when  I  was  sewing  and  doing 
things  for  them.  I  like  it.  Living  in  that  simple,  natural 
way,  and  having  the  children  with  me,  will  rest  and 
cure  me  if  anything  will  on  earth ;  the  children  always 

—  the  children  "  — 

She  stopped  and  sat  perfectly  still ;  her  voice  had 
broken,  and  she  had  turned  her  face  a  little  away. 

Arbuthnot  got  up.  He  stood  a  moment,  as  he  always 
did  before  going,  but  he  did  not  look  directly  at  her, 
though  he  did  not  seem  to  avoid  her  in  his 
glance. 

"It  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  he  said, — "the 
very  best  thing.  You  will  be  thoroughly  rested  when 
you  come  home,  and  that  is  what  you  need.  I  will  go 


136  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

now ;  I  1  aar  Richard,  and  I  want  to  speak  to  him 
alone." 

And  by  the  time  the  door  opened  and  Richard  stood 
on  the  threshold,  he  had  reached  him  and  turned  him 
around,  throwing  his  arm  boyishly  over  his  shoulder. 

"  You  are  just  in  time,"  he  said.  "Take  me  into  the 
museum,  or  the  library.  I  want  to  have  a  confidential 
chat  with  you." 

And  they  went  out  together. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER 

THE  following  day  Richard  presented  himself  to 
Tredennis  in  the  morning,  looking  a  little  disturbed,  and 
scarcely  in  such  excellent  spirits  as  usual. 

"  Bertha  and  the  children  are  going  away  to-morrow," 
he  said.  "  And  if  you  have  no  other  engagement  you 
are  to  come  and  dine  with  us  this  evening  and  say 
good-by." 

"I  have  no  other  engagement,"  Tredennis  answered. 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  come.  They  are  really  going  to 
Fortress  Monroe  to-morrow?" 

Richard  threw  himself  into  a  chair  with  a  rather  dis- 
contented air.  w  They  are  not  going  to  Fortress  Mun- 
roe  at  all,"  he  said.  "They  are  going  to  bury  them- 
selves in  the  mountains  of  Virginia.  It  is  a  queer  fancy 
of  Bertha's.  I  think  she  is  making  a  mistake.  She 
won't  like  it,  really,  when  she  tries  it." 

"If  she  needs  rest,"  said  Tredennis,  "certainly  the 
mountains  of  Virginia"  — 

"The  mountains  of  Virginia,"  interrupted  Richard, 
"  were  not  made  for  Bertha.  She  will  tire  of  them  in  a 
week.  I  wish  she  would  not  go!"  he  said,  with  the 
faintest  possible  touch  of  petulance. 

"You  will  miss  her  very  much,  of  course,"  said  Tre- 
dennis. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  shall  miss  her.  I  always  miss  her  — 
and  I  shall  miss  her  specially  just  now." 

"Just  now?"  said  Tredennis. 

"  Oh,"  said  Richard,  straightening  himself  somewhat 
and  clearing  his  slightly  knitted  brow,  "  I  was  only 
thinking  of  two  or  three  plans  which  had  half-formed 
themselves  in  my  mind.  I  was  looking  at  it  from  a 


138  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

selfish  point  of  view,  which  I  had  no  right  to  do.  1 
suppose  things  might  wait  —  UE  ril  she  comes  back." 

"Are  you  going  with  her?"  said  Tredennis. 

"I !"  exclaimed  Richard.  "No,  I  could  not  do  that. 
My  business  would  not  allow  of  it.  I  have  more  than 
usual  on  hand  just  now.  I  shall  run  down  to  see  them 
once  a  week,  if  possible.  I  must  confess,"  with  a 
laugh,  "  that  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  three 
months  of  it.  Bertha  knows  that." 

Taking  all  things  into  consideration,  he  bore  the 
prospect  of  his  approaching  loneliness  very  well.  He 
soon  began  to  speak  of  other  matters,  and  before  he 
took  his  departure  had  quite  recovered  his  usual  gayety. 
As  he  talked  Tredennis  regarded  him  with  some  curi- 
osity. 

"  He  has  a  fortunate  temperament,"  he  was  thinking. 
"He  would  have  been  happy  if  she  had  remained,  but 
he  is  not  unhappy  because  she  goes.  There  are  men 
who  would  take  it  less  lightly  —  though,  after  all,  he  is 
the  one  to  be  envied." 

Tredennis  did  not  feel  that  he  himself  was  greatly  to 
be  envied.  He  had  said  that  she  ought  to  go,  and  had 
been  anxious  and  unhappy  because  she  had  not  gone ; 
but  now  that  she  was  going  he  was  scarcely  happier. 
There  were  things  he  should  miss  every  day.  As  he 
remembered  them,  he  knew  he  had  not  allowed  himself 
to  admit  what  their  value  had  been  to  him.  The  very 
fact  that  they  had  not  been  better  friends  made  it 
harder.  From  the  first  he  had  been  aware  that  a  barrier 
stood  between  them,  and  in  the  interview  which  had  re- 
vealed to  him  something  of  its  nature  he  had  received 
§ome  sharp  wounds. 

w  There  was  truth  in  what  she  said,"  he  had  often 
pondered  since,  "though  she  put  it  in  a  woman's  way. 
I  have  resented  what  she  has  said  and  done,  often 
enough,  and  have  contrasted  it  bitterly  with  what  I 
remembered  —  God  knows  why  !  I  had  no  right  to  dc 
It,  and  it  was  all  folly  ;  but  I  did  it,  and  made  myself 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  139 

wretched  through  it  —  and  she  saw  the  folly,  and  not  the 
wretchedness." 

But  now  that  her  presence  would  no  longer  color  and 
animate  the  familiar  rooms  he  realized  what  their 
emptiness  would  be.  He  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  what  it  would  be  to  go  into  them  for  the  first  time 
and  sit  alone  with  Eichard,  —  no  bright  figure  moving 
before  them,  or  sitting  in  its  chair  by  the  table,  or  the 
window,  or  the  hearth.  The  absence  of  the  very  things 
which  had  angered  and  disturbed  him  would  leave  a 
blank.  It  would  actually  be  a  wretchedness  to  see  no 
longer  that  she  often  chose  to  be  flippant,  and  mocked 
for  mere  mocking's  sake. 

"What!"  he  said,  savagely,  "am  I  beginning  to 
care  for  her  very  faults  ?  Then  it  is  best  that  she  should 
go." 

But  his  savageness  was  not  against  Bertha,  but  against 
himself  and  his  weakness. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  house  in  the  evening  he  found 
Bertha  in  the  parlor,  with  Jack  and  Janey,  who  were  to 
be  allowed  to  share  the  farewell  dinner. 

As  she  advanced  to  meet  him  with  a  child  on  either 
side,  he  was  struck  by  certain  changes  which  he  observed 
in  her  dress  and  manner.  She  wore  a  dark,  simple 
gown,  her  hair  was  dressed  a  trifle  more  closely  and 
plainly  than  usual,  and  there  was  no  color  about  her. 
When  she  gave  him  her  hand,  and  stood  with  the  other 
resting  on  Jack's  shoulder,  her  eyes  uplifted  to  his  own, 
he  was  bewildered  by  a  feeling  that  he  was  suddenly 
brought  face  to  face  with  a  creature  quite  strange  to 
him.  He  could  not  have  said  that  she  was  actually  cold 
and  reserved,  but  there  was  that  in  the  quiet  of  her 
manner  which  suggested  both  reserve  and  coldness. 

"I  have  allowed  the  children  to  stay  downstairs," 
she  said,  "  and  they  are  to  dine  with  us  if  they  will  be 
good.  They  wished  very  much  to  see  as  much  of  you 
as  pos3ible  —  as  it  will  be  some  time  before  they  return 
—  and  I  think  they  will  be  quiet." 


140  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  If  you  will  seat  one  on  each  side  of  me,"  said  Tro- 
dennis,  "I  will  keep  them  quiet." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  she  answered,  "but  I  should 
scarcely  like  to  do  that." 

And  then  she  returned  to  her  seat  by  the  window, 
and  he  sat  opposite  her  on  the  end  of  a  sofa,  with  Janey 
leaning  against  his  knee. 

"  You  are  not  going  to  Fortress  Monroe  ?  "  he  said. 

"No,"  she  replied;  "I  am  going  to  the  Virginia 
mountains." 

"  I  should  think  that  would  be  better,"  he  said,  put- 
ting an  arm  around  Janey. 

"I  thought  so,"  she  answered,  "upon  reflection.  I 
am  not  as  strong  as  I  should  be,  and  I  think  I  dislike 
ill-health  even  more  than  most  people  do." 

She  held  Jack's  hand,  and  spoke  in  a  quiet  tone  of 
common  things,  —  of  her  plans  for  the  summer,  of  the 
children,  of  Richard  ;  and  Tredennis  listened  like  a  man 
in  a  dream,  missing  the  color  and  vivacity  from  her  man- 
ner as  he  had  known  he  should  miss  her  presence  from 
the  rooms  when  she  was  gone. 

"  Tell  Uncle  Philip  something  of  what  we  are  going 
to  do,"  she  said  to  Jack.  "  Tell  him  about  the  ham- 
mocks, and  the  spades  we  are  to  dig  with,  and  the 
books.  We  are  to  live  out  of  doors  and  enjoy  ourselves 
immensely,"  she  added,  with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Mamma  is  going  to  play  with  us  every  day,"  said 
Jack,  triumphantly.  "And  we  are  going  to  lie  in 
our  hammocks  while  she  reads  to  us  and  tells  us 
stories." 

"And  theie  will  be  no  parties  and  no  company, " 
Added  Janey.  "  Only  we  are  to  be  the  company." 

*  And  Jack  is  to  take  care  of  me,"  said  Bertha,  "  be- 
cause I  am  growing  old,  and  he  is  so  big." 

Jack  regarded  her  dubiously. 

"  You  haven't  any  wrinkles,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  have,  Jack,"  she  answered ;  "but  they  don't 
show."  And  a  little  laugh  broke  from  her,  and  she  let 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  141 

her  check  lest  against  his  dark  love-locks  for  a  moment 
in  a  light  caress. 

Glancing  up  at  the  colonel's  face  at  this  juncture, 
Janey  found  cause  in  it  for  serious  dissatisfaction.  She 
raised  her  hand,  and  drew  a  small  forefinger  across  his 
forehead. 

t! Uncle  Philip,"  she  said,  "you  are  bad  again.  The 
black  marks  have  come  back,  and  you  are  quite  ugly ; 
and  you  promised  you  would  try  not  to  let  them  come 
any  more." 

w  I  beg  your  pardon,  Janey,"  he  answered,  and  then 
turned  to  Bertha.  "  She  does  not  like  my  black  face," 
he  said,  "  and  no  wonder.  I  am  rather  an  unfortunate 
fellow  to  have  my  faults  branded  upon  me  so  plainly 
that  even  a  child  can  see  them." 

There  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  the  words,  and  in 
his  manner  of  uttering  them.  Bertha  answered  him  in 
a  soft,  level  voice. 

"You  are  severe  upon  yourself,"  she  said.  "It  is 
much  safer  to  be  severe  upon  other  people." 

It  was  rather  cruel,  but  she  did  not  object  to  being 
cruel.  There  come  to  most  women  moments  when  to 
be  cruel  is  their  only  refuge  against  themselves  and 
others ;  and  such  a  moment  had  come  to  her. 

In  looking  back  upon  the  evening,  when  it  was  over, 
the  feeling  that  it  had  been  unreal  was  stronger  in 
Tredennis's  mind  than  any  other.  It  was  all  unreal 
from  beginning  to  end,  —  the  half-hour  before  dinner, 
when  Arbuthnot  and  Richard  and  the  professor  came  in, 
and  Bertha  stood  near  her  father's  chair  and  talked  to 
him,  and  Tredennis,  holding  Janey  on  his  knee  and 
trying  to  answer  her  remarks  lucidly,  was  aware  only 
of  the  presence  of  the  dark,  slender  figure  near  him, 
and  the  strange  quiet  of  the  low  voice ;  the  dinner 
itself,  during  which  Richard  was  in  the  most  attrac- 
tive mood,  and  the  professor  was  rather  silent,  and 
Arbuthnot's  vivacity  was  a  little  fitful  at  first  and  after- 
ward seemed  to  recover  itself  and  rise  to  the  occasion  : 


142  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

while  Bertha,  with  Jack  on  one  hand  and  Janey  on  th« 
other,  cared  for  their  wants  and  answered  Richaid'g 
sallies,  and  aided  him  in  them,  and  yet  was  not  herself 
at  all,  but  a  new  being. 

"And  you  think,"  said  the  professor,  later  in  the 
evening,  when  they  had  returned  to  the  parlors, — "you 
think  that  you  will  like  the  quiet  of  the  mountains  ?  " 

w  I  think  it  will  be  good  for  me,"  she  answered,  "  and 
the  children  will  like  it." 

"  She  will  not  like  it  at  all,"  said  Richard.  "  She  will 
abhor  it  in  ten  days,  and  she  will  rush  off  to  Fortress 
Monroe,  and  dance  every  night  to  make  up  for  her  tem- 
porary mental  aberration." 

"  No,  she  will  not,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "She  has  made 
preparations  to  enjoy  her  seclusion  in  its  dramatic 
aspects.  She  is  going  to  retire  from  the  world  in  the 
character  of  a  graceful  anchorite,  and  she  has  already 
begun  to  dress  the  part.  She  is  going  to  be  simple  and 
serious,  and  a  trifle  severe ;  and  it  even  now  expresses 
itself  in  the  lines  and  color  of  her  gown." 

She  turned  toward  him,  with  the  sudden  gleam  of 
some  new  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"  How  well  you  understand  me  ! "  she  said.  "  No  one 
else  would  have  understood  me  so  well.  I  never  can 
deceive  you,  at  least.  Yes,  you  are  quite  right.  I  am 
going  to  enjoy  the  thing  dramatically.  I  don't  want  to 
go,  but  as  I  feel  it  discreet  I  intend  to  amuse  myself, 
and  make  the  best  of  it.  I  am  going  to  play  at  being 
maternal  and  amiable,  and  even  domesticated.  I  have 
a  costume  for  it,  as  I  have  one  for  bathing  and  dining 
and  making  calls.  "This,"  she  said,  touching  her 
dress,  "  is  part  of  it.  Upstairs  I  have  a  little  mob-cap 
and  an  apron,  and  a  work-basket  to  carry  on  my  arm. 
They  are  not  unbecoming,  either.  Shall  I  run  up  into  the 
nursery  and  put  them  on,  and  show  them  to  you? 
Then  you  can  be  sure  that  I  comprehend  the  part." 

"Have  you  a  mob-cap  and  an  apron?"  asked  Richard 
"Have  you,  i3ally?" 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  143 

"Yes,  really,"  she  answered.  "Don't  you  remenibei 
that  I  told  you  that  it  was  my  dresses  that  were  of  con- 
sequence, and  not  myself?  Shall  I  go  and  put  them 
on?" 

Her  tone  was  soft  no  longer;  it  was  a  little  hard; 
and  so  was  the  look  which  half  hid  itself  behind  the 
brightness  of  the  eyes  she  turned  toward  him. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered.  "  Put  them  on,  and  let  us  see 
them." 

She  turned  round  and  went  out  of  the  room,  and 
Arbuthnot  followed  her  with  a  rather  anxious  glance. 
The  professor  stirred  his  tea  as  usual,  and  Tredennis 
turned  his  attention  to  Janey,  while  Richard  laughed. 

"I  have  no  doubt  she  has  all  three,"  he  said.  "And 
they  will  be  well  worth  seeing." 

They  were  worth  seeing.  In  a  few  minutes  she  re- 
turned,—  the  little  work-basket  on  her  arm,  the  mob- 
cap  upon  her  head,  the  apron  around  her  waist,  and  a 
plain  square  of  white  muslin  crossed  upon  her  bosom. 
She  stopped  in  the  door-way,  and  made  a  courtesy. 

"  There  ought  to  be  a  curtain,  and  somebody  ought  to 
ring  it  up,"  she  said.  "Enter  the  domestic  virtues." 

And  she  came  and  stood  before  them,  her  eyes  shining 
still,  and  her  head  erect,  but  —  perhaps  through  the 
rather  severe  black  and  white  of  her  costume  — seeming 
to  have  a  shade  less  color  than  before. 

'I  did  not  make  them  for  this  occasion,"  she  said. 
"They  have  appeared  before.  You  don't  remember 
them,  Richard,  but  I  had  them  when  Jack  was  a  baby 
— and  a  novelty.  I  tried  being  maternal  then." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Richard,  "to  be  sure  I  remember 
them,  — and  *'ery  becoming  they  were,  too." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  knew  they  were  be- 
coming 1 " 

She  turned  and  fronted  Tredennis. 

w  I  hope  they  are  becoming  now,"  she  said,  and  made 
her  little  courtesy  again. 

They  are  very  becoming,"  he  answered,  looking  at 


144  THROUGH    ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

her  steadily.  "  I  like  them  better  than  —  the  silks  and 
brocades." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  you  would  —  01 
I  would  not  have  put  them  on.  Jack  and  Janoy,  come 
and  stand  on  each  side  of  me  while  I  sit  down.  I  have 
always  congratulated  myself  that  you  were  becoming. 
This  is  what  we  shall  be  constrained  to  do  when  we  are 
in  Virginia,  only  we  shall  not  have  the  incentive  ol 
being  looked  at." 

"We  will  make  up  a  party,"  said  Richard,  "and 
come  down  once  a  week  to  look  at  you.  Planefield 
would  enjoy  it,  I  am  sure." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Bertha.  "And  I  will  always 
bring  out  the  work-basket,  with  a  lace-collar  for  Meg  in 
it.  Lace-collars  are  more  becoming  than  small  aprons 
or  stocking-mending.  Do  you  remember  the  little  shirt 
Mrs.  Rawdon  Crawley  was  making  for  her  boy,  and 
which  was  always  produced  when  she  was  in  virtuous 
company  ?  Poor  Rawdon  was  quite  a  big  boy,  and  very 
much  too  large  for  it,  by  the  time  it  was  finished.  I 
wonder  if  Meg  will  be  grown  up  before  she  gets  her 
collar." 

She  produced  a  needle,  threaded  it,  and  took  a  few 
stitches,  bending  her  head  over  her  task  with  a  serious 
air. 

"  Does  it  look  as  if  I  had  done  it  before  ?  "  she  said. 
"I  hope  it  does.  I  really  have,  you  know.  Once  I 
sowed  on  a  button  for  Richard." 

But  she  did  not  sew  many  minutes.  Soon  she  laid 
her  work  down  in  the  basket. 

" There  1"  she  said,  "that  is  enough!  I  have  made 
my  impression,  and  that  is  all  I  care  for  —  or  I  should 
have  made  my  impression  if  you  had  been  strangers. 
If  you  had  not  known  me  you  would  have  had  time 
to  say  to  one  another:  'What  a  simple,  affectionate 
little  creature  she  must  be  !  After  all,  there  is  nothing 
which  becomes  a  woman  so  well  as  to  sit  at  her  work 
in  that  quiet,  natural  way,  with  her  children  about 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  145 

her  ! '  Come,  Jack  and  Janey,  it  is  time  for  you  to  say 
good-night,  and  let  me  make  a  pretty  exit  with  you, 
in  my  mob-cap  and  apron." 

She  took  them  away,  and  remained  upstairs  with 
them  until  they  were  in  bed.  When  she  came  back  she 
did  not  bring  the  work-basket,  but  she  had  not  taken 
off  the  cap  and  handkerchief.  She  held  an  open  lettei 
in  her  hand,  and  went  to  Richard  and  sat  down  by  him. 
Her  manner  had  changed  again  entirely.  It  was  as  if 
she  had  left  upstairs  something  more  than  the  work- 
basket. 

"Richard,"  she  said,  "I  did  not  tell  you  I  had  had  a 
letter  from  Agnes  Sylvestre." 

"  From  Agnes  Sylvestre  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why, 
no,  you  didn't  I  But  it  is  good  news.  Laurence,  you 
must  remember  Agnes  Sylvestre  1  " 

"  Perfectly,"  was  the  answer.  "  She  was  not  the  kind 
of  person  you  forget." 

" She  was  a  beautiful  creature,"  said  Richard,  "and  1 
always  regretted  that  we  lost  sight  of  her  as  we  did  after 
her  marriage.  Where  is  she  now,  Bertha?" 

"  When  she  wrote  she  was  at  Castellamare.  She  went 
abroad,  you  know,  immediately  after  her  husband's  death." 

"He  was  not  the  nicest  fellow  in  the  world, — that  Syl- 
vestre," said  Richard.  "He  was  not  the  man  for  a 
woman  like  that  to  many.  I  wonder  if  she  did  not  find 
out  that  she  had  made  a  mistake  ?  " 

"If  she  did,"  said  Bertha,  "she  bore  it  very  well, 
and  it  has  been  all  over  for  more  than  two  years." 

She  turned  suddenly  to  Tredennis. 

ft  Did  not  you  once  tell  me  " —  she  began. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  met  her  in  Chicago,  and  Mr. 
Sylvestre  was  with  her." 

"It  must  have  been  two  or  three  weeks  before  his 
death,"  said  Bertha.  "He  died  quite  suddenly,  and 
they  were  in  Chicago  at  the  time.  Do  you  remember 
how  she  looked,  and  if  you  liked  her?  —  but  of  course 
you  liked  her." 


146  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  saw  her  only  for  a   short   time,"    he   answered 
"We    talked     principally    of    you.      She    was    very 
handsome,    and   had   a   sweet   voice   and   large,    calni 
eyes." 

Bertha  was  silent  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  she  said  next,  "she  has  beautiful  eyes.  They 
are  large  and  clear,  like  a  child's,  but  they  are  not  child- 
ish eyes.  She  sees  a  great  deal  with  them.  I  think 
there  was  never  anything  more  effective  than  a  way  she 
has  of  looking  at  you  quietly  and  directly  for  a  few 
seconds,  without  saying  anything  at  all." 

"  You  wonder  what  she  is  thinking  of,"  said  Arbuth- 
not.  "And  you  hope  she  is  thinking  of  yourself,  and 
are  inclined  to  believe  she  is,  when  there  are  ten  chances 
to  one  that  she  is  not  at  all." 

"But  she  generally  is,"  said  Bertha.  "The  trouble 
is  that  perhaps  she  is  not  thinking  exactly  what  you 
would  like  best,  though  she  will  never  tell  you  so,  and 
you  would  not  discover  it  from  her  manner.  She  had 
an  adorable  manner ;  it  is  soft  and  well-bred,  but  she 
D.ever  wastes  herself." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Tredennis,  "  that  I  thought  her 
very  attractive." 

Bertha  turned  more  directly  toward  him. 

"  She  is  exactly  what  you  would  like,"  she  said,  - 
"  exactly.  When  I  said  just  now  that  her  way  of  look- 
ing at  people  was  effective,  I  used  the  worst  possible 
word,  and  did  her  an  injustice.  She  is  never  effective 
— in  that  way.  To  be  effective,  it  seems  to  me,  you 
must  apply  yourself.  Agnes  Sylvestre  never  applies 
herself.  Trifles  do  not  amuse  her  as  they  amuse  me. 
I  entertain  myself  with  my  whims  and  with  all  sorts  of 
people  ;  she  ha*  no  whims,  and  cares  only  foi  the  people 
she  is  fond  of.  If  she  were  here  to-night  she  woulc! 
look  calmly  at  my  mob-cap  and  apron,  and  wonder  what 
I  meant  by  them,  and  what  mental  process  I  had  gone 
through  to  reach  the  point  of  finding  it  worth  while  to 
wear  them." 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  147 

"  Oh,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "  I  should  not  think  she  was 
slow  at  following  mental  processes." 

"  No,"  answered  Bertha,  "  I  did  not  mean  that.  She 
would  reason  clearly  enough,  after  she  had  looked  at  me 
a  few  moments  and  asked  herself  the  question.  But  in 
talking  of  her  I  am  forgetting  to  tell  you  that  she  ia 
coming  home,  and  will  spend  next  winter  in  Washing- 
ton." 

"Congratulate  yourself,  Laurence,"  said  Richard. 
"  We  may  all  congratulate  ourselves.  It  will  be  some- 
thing more  to  live  for." 

"As  to  congratulating  myself,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "I 
should  have  no  objection  to  devoting  the  remainder  of 
the  evening  to  it,  but  I  am  afraid  "  — 

"Of  what?"  demanded  Bertha. 

"Oh,"  he  answered,  "she  will  see  through  me  with 
ner  calm  eyes  ;  and,  as  you  say,  she  never  wastes  her- 
self." 

"  No,"  said  Bertha,  "  she  never  wastes  herself.  And, 
after  all,  it  is  Colonel  Tredennis  who  has  most  reason  to 
congratulate  himself.  He  has  not  thrown  away  his  time. 
I  am  obliged  to  admit  that  she  once  said  to  me  of  you, 
'  Why  does  he  throw  away  his  time  ?  Does  he  never 
think  at  all  ?'  Yes,  it  is  Colonel  Tredennis  who  must 
be  congratulated." 

It  was  chiefly  of  Agnes  Sylvestre  they  talked  during 
the  rest  of  the  evening. 

"  She  is  a  person  who  says  very  little  of  herself,"  was 
Bertha's  comment,  "  but  there  is  a  great  deal  to  say  of 
her." 

And  so  there  seemed  to  be.  There  were  anecdotes 
to  be  related  of  her,  the  charm  of  her  beauty  and  man- 
ner was  to  be  analyzed,  and  all  of  her  attributes  were 
found  worth  touching  upon. 

It  was  Tredennis  who  took  his  departure  first.  When 
he  rose  to  go,  Bertha,  who  was  talking  to  Arbuthnot, 
did  not  at  first  ot serve  his  movement,  and  when  he 
approached  her  she  turned  with  an  involuntary  start. 


148  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  You  —  are  going  now? "  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "I  wish  you  a  plaisant  sum- 
mer and  all  the  rest  you  require." 

She  stood  up  and  gave  him  her  hand. 

"Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "I  shall  be  sure  to  hare 
the  rest." 

It  scarcely  seemed  more  than  the  ordinary  conven- 
tiom.1  parting  for  the  night ;  to  Tredennis  it  seemed 
something  less.  There  were  only  a  few  words  more, 
and  he  dropped  her  hand  and  went  out  of  the  room. 

He  had  certainly  felt  that  this  was  the  last,  and  only 
a  powerful  effort  of  will  held  in  check  a  feeling  whose 
strength  he  would  have  been  loath  to  acknowledge. 

"Such  things  are  always  a  wrench,"  he  said,  mentally. 
"  I  never  bore  them  well." 

And  he  had  barely  said  it  when  he  heard  Bertha  cross 
the  parlor  quickly  and  pass  through  the  door.  He  had 
bent  to  take  up  a  paper  he  had  left  on  the  hat-stand, 
and  when  he  turned  ^he  was  close  to  him. 

Something  in  her  look  was  so  unusual  that  he  recog- 
nized it  with  an  inward  start.  Her  eyes  were  a  little 
dilated,  and  her  breath  came  with  soft  quickness,  as  if 
she  had  moved  rapidly  and  impulsively.  She  put  out 
both  her  hands  with  a  simple,  sudden  gesture,  and  with 
an  action  as  simple  and  unpremeditated  he  took  them 
and  held  them  in  his  own. 

"I  came,"  she  said,  "to  say  good-by  again.  All  at 
once  I  seemed  to  —  to  realize  that  it  would  be  months 
before  I  —  we  saw  you  again.  And  so  many  things 
happen,  and  — "  She  stopped  a  second,  but  went 
on  after  it.  "  When  I  come  back,"  she  said,  "  I  shall 
be  well  and  strong,  and  like  a  new  person.  Say  good- 
by  to  this  person ; "  and  a  smile  came  and  went  as  she 
said  it. 

"A  moment  ago,"  he  answered,  "I  was  telling  myself 
that  good-byes  were  hard  upon  me." 

M  They  —  they  are  not  easy,"  she  said. 

This,  at  least,  was  not  easy  for  him.     Her  hands 


1HROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  14 tf 

trembling  in  his  clasp.  The  thought  came  to  him  that 
perhaps  some  agitation  she  wished  to  hide  had  driven 
her  from  the  room  within,  and  she  had  come  to  him  for 
momentary  refuge  because  he  was  near.  She  looked 
up  at  him  for  a  second  with  a  touch  of  desperation  in 
her  eyes,  and  then  he  saw  her  get  over  it,  and  she 
spoke. 

"Jack  and  Janey  will  miss  you  very  much,"  she  said. 
"  You  have  been  very  kind  to  them.  I  think  —  it  is 
your  way  to  be  good  to  every  one." 

"  My  opportunities  of  being  good  have  been  limited/' 
he  said.  "  If — if  one  should  present  itself,"  —  and  he 
held  her  hands  a  little  closer,  —  "  you  won't  let  me  miss 
my  chance,  will  you?  There  is  no  reason  for  my  saying 
so  much,  of  course,  but  —  but  you  will  try  to  remember 
that  I  am  here  and  always  ready  to  come  when  I  am 
called." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  think  you  would  come  if  I  called 
you.  And  I  thank  you  very  much.  And  good-by  — 
good-by." 

And  she  drew  her  hands  away  and  stood  with  them 
hanging  clasped  before  her,  as  if  she  meant  to  steady 
them,  and  so  she  stood  until  he  was  gone. 

He  was  breathing  quickly  himself  when  he  reached 
the  street. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "the  professor  was  right.  It  is 
Arbuthnot — it  is  Arbuthnct." 


16 J  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WHEN  he  passed  the  house  the  next  day  they  wer« 
gone.  The  nursery  windows  were  thrown  open,  and  he 
fancied  that  the  place  wore  a  deserted  look.  The  very 
streets  seemed  empty,  and  the  glare  of  sunshine,  whose 
heat  increased  with  every  hour,  added  to  the  air  of  deso- 
lateness  he  imagined. 

"  It  is  imagination,"  he  said.  "  And  the  feeling  will 
die  away  all  the  more  quickly  because  I  recognize  the 
unreality  of  it.  By  to-morrow  or  the  day  after  I  shall 
have  got  over  it." 

And  yet  a  week  later,  when  he  dropped  in  upon  the 
professor,  one  sultry  evening,  to  spend  an  hour  with 
him,  his  old  friend  found  cause  for  anxious  inspection 
of  him. 

M  What,"  he  said,  w  the  hot  weather  begins  to  tell  on 
you  already  !  You  are  not  acclimatized  yet, — that's  it. 
You  must  spare  yourself  as  much  as  possible.  It  doesn't 
promise  well  that  you  look  fagged  so  soon.  I  should  say 
you  had  not  slept  well." 

"I  don't  sleep  well,"  Tredennis  answered. 

"You  are  working  too  hard,"  said  the  professor; 
*'  that  is  it,  perhaps." 

"  I  am  not  working  hard  enough,"  replied  Tredennis, 
with  a  slight  knitting  of  the  brows.  w  I  wish  I  had  more 
to  do.  Leisure  does  not  agree  with  me." 

w  Ono  must  occupy  one's  self ! "  said  the  professor.  He 
spoke  half-absently,  and  yet  with  a  touch  of  significance 
in  his  tone  which  —  combined  with  the  fact  that  he  had 
heard  the  words  before  —  caused  Tredennis  to  glance  at 
him  quickly. 

He  smiled  slightly,  in  answer  to  the  glance. 

w  Bertha?  "  he  said.    "  Oh,  yes,  I  am  quoting  Bertha, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRA1ION.  151 

Your  manner  is  not  as  light  as  hers,  but  it  reminded  me 
of  her  in  some  way ;  perhaps  because  I  had  a  letter 
from  her  to-day,  and  she  was  in  my  thoughts." 

"I  hope  she  is  well,"  said  Tredennis,  "and  does  not 
find  her  farm-house  too  dull." 

"She  does  not  complain  of  it,"  the  professor  answered. 
"And  she  says  nothing  of  her  own  health,  but  tells  me 
she  is  a  little  anxious  about  Janey,  who  does  not  seem 
quite  herself." 

Tredennis  looked  out  into  the  darkening  street.  They 
were  sitting  by  the  opened  window. 

"  She  was  not  well  when  she  went  away,"  he  said,  a 
trifle  abstractedly. 

"  Janey  ?  "  asked  the  professor,  as  if  the  idea  was  new 
to  him  ;  "  I  did  not  know  that." 

Tredennis  roused  himself. 

WI  —  was  thinking  of  Bertha,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  of  Bertha,"  said  the  professor,  and  then  he 
lapsed  into  a  reverie  himself  for  a  few  moments ;  and 
seemed  to  watch  the  trees  on  the  street  without  seeing 
them. 

"No,  she  was  not  well,"  he  said,  at  length;  "but  I 
think  she  will  be  better  when  she  comes  back." 

"  The  rest  and  quiet "  —  began  Tredennis. 

"  I  think  she  had  determined  to  be  better,"  said  the 
professor. 

"  Determined  ?  "  repeated  Tredennis. 

"She  has  a  strong  will,"  returned  the  professor, 
"though  it  is  a  thing  she  is  never  suspected  of.  She 
does  not  suspect  herself  of  it,  and  yet  she  has  relied 
upon  ita  strength  from  the  first,  and  is  relying  upon  it 
now.  I  am  convinced  that  she  went  away  with  the  de- 
termination to  conquer  a  restlessness  whose  significance 
she  is  just  awakening  to.  And  she  deliberately  chose 
nature  and  the  society  of  her  children  as  the  best  meanss 
of  cure." 

"Do  you  think  *  asked  Tredennis,  in  a  low  voice, 
"that  she  will  get  over  it?" 


j 

L.r)2  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

The  professor  turned  to  look  at  him. 

w  I  don't  know,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  tone  of 
surprise.     w  Why  did  you  fancy  I  would?" 

"  You  seem  to  understand  her,"  said  Tredennis. 

The  professor  sighed. 

I  have  studied  her  so  long,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  im- 
agine I  know  what  she  is  doing,  but  you  can't  safely  go 
beyond  that  with  women  ;  you  can't  say  what  they  are 
going  to  do,  — with  any  degree  of  certainty.  They  are 
absorbingly  interesting  as  a  study,  but  they  are  not  to 
be  relied  on.  And  they  rarely  compliment  your  intelli- 
gence by  doing  what  you  expect  of  them.  She  has  not 
done  what  I  expected.  She  has  lived  longer  than  I 
thought  she  would  without  finding  herself  out.  A  year 
ago  she  believed  that  she  had  proved  to  herself  that 
such  an  emotion  as  —  as  this  was  impossible  to  her.  It 
was  a  very  innocent  belief,  and  she  was  entirely  sincere 
in  it,  and  congratulated  herself  upon  it."  He  turned  to 
Tredennis  again  with  a  sudden  movement  and  a  curious 
look  of  pain  in  his  face.  "I  am  afraid  it's  a  great  mis- 
take," he  said. 

"  What?  "  Tredennis  asked. 

"This  —  this  feeling,"  he  said,  in  a  tremulous  and 
troubled  voice.  "I  don't  mean  in  her  alone,  but  in  an} 
one,  everywhere.  I  am  not  sure  that  it  ever  bring, 
happiness  really  in  the  end.  I  am  afraid  there  always 
is  an  end.  If  there  wasn't,  it  might  be  different ;  but 
I  am  afraid  there  is.  There  are  those  of  us  who  try  to 
believe  there  is  none,  but — but  I  am  afraid  those  are 
happiest  who  lose  all  but  their  ideal.  There  are  many 
who  lose  even  that,  and  Fate  has  done  her  worst  by 
them."  He  checked  himself,  and  sank  back  in  his 
chair. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  smiling  half  sadly.  "I  am  an  old 
man  —  an  old  man,  —  and  it  is  an  old  man's  fancy,  that 
the  best  thing  in  life  is  death.  And  Fate  did  not  do  hei 
worst  by  me ;  she  left  me  my  ideal .  She  had  gray 
eyes,"  he  added,  "and  a  bright  face,  like  Bertha's.  Per- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  153 

haps,  after  all,  if  I  had  won  what  I  wanted,  I  should  not 
feel  so  old  to-night,  and  so  tired.  Her  face  was  very 
bright.'' 

He  had  not  been  wholly  well  for  some  days,  and  to- 
night seemed  fatigued  by  the  heat  and  languoi  in  the 
air,  but  he  was  somewhat  more  hopeful  when  he  spoke 
of  Bertha  than  he  had  been. 

"I  have  confidence  in  the  strength  of  her  will,"  he 
eaid,  "  and  I  like  her  pride  and  courage.  She  does  not 
give  away  to  her  emotions ;  she  resents  them  fiercely, 
and  refuses  to  acknowledge  their  powers  over  her.  She 
insists  to  herself  that  her  restlessness  is  nervousness, 
and  her  sadness  morbid." 

"  She  said  as  much  to  me,"  said  Tredennis. 

"  Did  she  ?  "  exclaimed  the  professor.  "  That  is  a  good 
sign ;  it  shows  that  she  has  confidence  in  you,  and  that 
it  is  a  feeling  strong  enough  to  induce  her  to  use  you  as 
a  defence  against  her  own  weakness.  She  would  never 
have  spoken  if  she  had  not  believed  that  you  were  a 
sort  of  stronghold.  It  is  the  old  feeling  of  her  girlhood 
ruling  her  again.  Thank  Heaven  for  that ! " 

There  was  a  ring  at  the  front-door  bell  as  he  spoke, 
and  a  moment  or  so  later  it  was  answered  by  a  servant ; 
buoyant  feet  were  heard  in  the  hall,  and  paused  a  second 
on  the  threshold. 

"Are  you  here,  Professor  ?"  some  one  inquired.  "And 
may  I  come  in  ?  " 

Professor  Herrick  turned  his  head. 

"Come  in,  Richard,"  he  said;  "come  in,  by  all 
means."  And  Amory  entered  and  advanced  toward  them. 

The  slight  depression  of  manner  Tredennis  bad  fancied 
he  had  seen  in  him  on  the  last  two  occasions  of  theii 
meeting  had  disappeared  altogether.  He  seemed  even 
in  gayer  spirits  than  usual. 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you,"  he  said  to  the  professor, 
"that  I  am  going  away  for  a  short  time.  It  is  a  matter 
of  business  connected  with  the  Westoria  lands.  I  may 
be  away  a  week  or  two." 


154  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Isn't  it  rather  a  long  journey  ?"  asked  the  professor. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  replied,  with  no  air  of  being  daunted 
!>y  the  prospect, — "and  a  tiresome  one,  but  it  is 
important  that  I  should  make  it,  and  I  shall  not  b* 
alone." 

"  Who  is  to  be  your  companion?  " 

f!  Planefiell  —  and  he's  rather  an  entertaining  fellow, 
in  his  way  —  Planefield.  Oh,  it  wont  be  so  bad,  on  the 
whole." 

"  It  is  Planefield  who  is  interested  in  the  lands,  if  I 
remember  rightly,"  suggested  the  professor. 

"  Oh,  Planefield  ?"  Richard  replied,  carelessly.  "  Well, 
more  or  less.  He  is  given  to  interesting  himself  in 
things,  and,  by  Jove  !  "  he  added  with  a  laugh,  "  this 
promises  to  be  a  good  thing  to  be  interested  in.  I 
shouldn't  mind  if  I "  — 

"  My  dear  Richard,"  interposed  the  professor,  "allow 
me  to  advise  you  not  to  do  so.  You'll  really  find  it  best. 
Such  things  rarely  end  well." 

Richard  laughed  again. 

"  My  dear  Professor,"  he  answered,  with  much  good- 
humor,  "  you  may  rely  upon  me.  I  haven't  any  money 
of  my  own." 

"  And  if  you  had  money  ?  "  said  the  professor. 

"  I  think  I  should  risk  it.  I  really  do.  Though  why 
I  should  say  risk,  I  hardly  know.  There  is  scarcely 
enough  risk  to  make  it  exciting." 

He  was  very  sanguine,  and  once  or  twice  became 
quite  brilliant  on  the  subject.  The  great  railroad,  which 
was  to  give  the  lands  an  enormous  value,  was  almost  an 
established  fact ;  everything  was  being  laid  in  train  :  a 
man  influenced  here,  a  touch  given  there,  a  vigorous 
move  made  in  this  direction,  an  interest  awakened  in 
that,  and  the  thing  was  done. 

"There  isn't  a  doubt  of  the  termination,"  he  said, 
w  not  a  doubt.  It's  a  brilliant  sort  of  thing  that  is  its 
own  impetus,  one  might  say,  and  the  right  men  are  af 
work  for  it,  and  the  right  worn — " 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  155 

*  Were  you  going  to  say  women  ?  "  asked  Tredennis, 
when  he  pulled  himself  up  somewhat  abruptly. 

"  Well,  yes,"  Richard  said,  blithely.  "After  all,  why 
not?  I  must  confess  to  finding  the  fact  lend  color  and 
vivacity  to  the  thing.  And  the  delightful  cleverness  the 
clever  ones  show  is  a  marvellous  power  for  or  against  a 
thing,  though  I  think  the  feminine  tendency  is  to  work 
for  a  thing,  not  against  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  know,"  said  Tredennis,  "how  they 
begin  it." 

For  a  moment  he  thought  he  did  not  know  why  he 
asked  the  question ;  but  the  self-delusion  did  not  last 
long.  He  felt  an  instant  later  that  he  did  know,  and 
wished  that  he  did  not. 

"In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,"  Richard  replied,  giving 
himself  up  at  once  to  an  enjoyable  analysis  of  the  sub- 
ject,—  "  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it  is  my  impression 
they  begin  with  almost  entire  lack  of  serious  intention, 
and  rarely,  if  ever,  even  in  the  end,  admit  to  themselves 
that  they  have  done  what  they  are  accused  of.  Given  / 
a  clever  and  pretty  woman  whose  husband  or  othei  J 
male  relative  needs  her  assistance  :  why  should  she  be 
less  clever  and  pretty  in  the  society  of  one  political  dig- 
nitary than  in  that  of  another,  whose  admiration  of  her 
charms  may  not  be  of  such  importance?  I  suppose 
that  is  the  beginning,  and  then  come  the  sense  of  powei 
and  the  fascination  of  excitement.  What  woman  does 
not  like  both  ?  What  woman  is  better  and  more  charm- 
ing than  Bertha,  and  Bertha  does  not  hesitate  to  admit, 
in  her  own  delightful  way,  that  there  must  have  been  a 
fascination  in  the  lives  of  those  historical  charmers  b€>- 
fore  whom  prune  ministers  trembled,  and  who  could 
make  and  unmake  a  cabinet  with  a  smile." 

"  What,"  was  the  thought  that  leaped  into  Tredennis' 
mind,  "  do  we  begin  to  compare  Bertha  with  a  king's 
favorite  ! "  But  he  did  not  say  it  aloud  —  it  was  not  for 
him  to  defend  her  against  her  husband's  lightness ;  and 
were  they  not  her  own  word?,  after  all?  And  so  he 


156  THROUGH   ONE    ADM  [NISTIIATION. 

could  only  sit  silent  in  the  shadow  of  his  darkening 
corner  and  knit  his  heavy  brows  with  hot  resentment  in 
his  heart,  while  Richard  went  on : 

"There  are  some  few  who  make  a  profession  of  it," 
ke  said ;  "  but  they  do  not  carry  the  most  power.  Tho 
woman  who  is  ambitious  for  her  husband,  or  eager  for 
her  son,  or  who  wishes  to  escape  from  herself  and  find 
refuge  in  some  absorbing  excitement,  necessarily  is  more 
powerful  than  the  more  sordid  element.  If  I  were 
going  in  for  that  kind  of  thing,"  he  went  on,  settling 
himself  in  his  favorite  graceful,  lounging  posture,  and 
throwing  his  arm  lightly  behind  his  head,  — "if  I  were 
going  in  for  it,  and  might  make  a  deliberate  choice,  I 
think  I  should  choose  a  woman  who  had  something  to 
forget,  —  a  woman  who  had  reached  an  emotional  crisis 
—  who  was  young,  and  yet  who  could  not  take  refuge 
in  girlish  forgetfulness,  and  who,  in  spite  of  her  youth, 
had  lived  beyond  trusting  in  the  future  —  a  woman  who 
represented  beauty,  and  wit,  and  despair  (the  de- 
spair would  be  the  strongest  lever  of  all) .  There  isn't 
a  doubt  of  it  that  such  a  woman,  taken  at  such  a  turn- 
ing-point in  her  existence,  could  move — the  world,  if 
you  like  —  the  world  itself ; "  and  he  arranged  himself  a 
trifle  more  comfortably,  and  half-laughed  again. 

""  But,"  suggested  the  professor,  "  you  are  not  going 
in  for  that  sort  of  thing,  my  dear  Richard." 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !"  answered  Richard ;  "  but  if  I  were,  I 
must  confess  it  would  have  a  fascination  for  me  which 
would  not  permit  of  my  regarding  it  in  cold  blood.  I 
am  like  Bertha,  you  know  —  I  like  my  little  drama." 

"And,  speaking  of  Bertha,"  said  the  professor,  "if 
anything  should  happen  while  you  are  away  "  — 

"Now,  really,"  said  Richard,  "that  shows  what  a 
careless  fellow  I  am  !  Do  you  know,  it  never  once  oc- 
curred to  me  that  anything  could  happen.  We  have 
such  an  admirable  record  to  look  back  upon,  Bertha  and 
I,  though  I  think  I  usually  refer  the  fact  to  Bertha's  tact 
and  executive  ability ;  nothing  ever  has  happened,  and 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  157 

I  feel  that  we  have  established  a  precedent.  But,  if  any- 
thing should  happen,  you  had  better  telegraph  to  Mer- 
ritsville.  In  any  ordinary  event,  however,  I  feel  quite 
safe  in  leaving  Bertha  in  your  hands  and  Tredennis's," 
he  said,  smiling  at  the  large  shadow  in  the  coiner. 
"  One  is  always  sure,  in  the  midst  of  the  ruling  frivolity, 
that  Tredennis  is  to  be  relied  on." 

He  went  away  soon  after,  and  Tredennis,  bidding  the 
professor  good-night,  left  the  house  with  him. 

As  they  passed  down  the  steps  Richard  put  his  arm 
through  his  companion's  with  caressing  friendliness. 

"  It  wouldn't  do  you  any  harm  to  take  a  run  up  into 
Virginia  yourself,  once  in  a  while,"  he  said.  "You 
have  been  losing  ground  since  the  heat  set  in,  and  we 
can't  submit  to  that.  We  need  your  muscular  develop- 
ment in  its  highest  form,  as  an  example  to  our  modern 
deterioration.  Kill  two  birds  with  one  stone  when  you 
have  a  day's  leisure,  — go  and  see  Bertha  and  the  chil- 
dren, and  lay  in  a  new  supply  of  that  delightful  robust- 
ness we  envy  and  admire." 

"  I  should  be  glad  to  see  Bertha,"  said  Tredennis. 

"  She  would  be  glad  to  see  you,"  Richard  answered. 
"  And,  while  I  am  away,  it  will  be  a  relief  to  me  to  feel 
that  she  has  you  to  call  upon  in  case  of  need.  The  pro- 
fessor—  dear  old  fellow  —  is  not  as  strong  as  he  was. 
And  you  —  as  I  said  before  —  one  naturally  takes  the 
liberty  of  relying  upon  your-silent  substantiality." 

"  Thank  you, "said  Tredennis.  "If  it  is  a  matter  of 
avoirdupois  "  — 

Richard  turned  quickly  to  look  at  him. 

"Ah,  no,"  he  said,  "not  that;  though,  being  hu- 
man, we  respect  the  avoirdupois.  It's  something  else, 
you  know.  Upon  iny  word,  I  can't  exactly  say  what, 
but  something  which  makes  a  man  feel  instinctively  that 
he  can  shift  his  responsibilities  upon  you  and  they  will 
be  in  good  hands.  Perhaps  it  is  not  an  enviable  quality 
in  one's  self,  after  all.  Here  am  I,  you  see,  shifting 
Bertha  and  the  children  off  on  your  shoulders. 


158  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"If  I  can  be  of  any  use  to  Bertha  and  the  children 
why  not?"  said  Tredennis,  tersely. 

"  Oh,  but  one  might  also  say  *  Why  ? ' "  returned 
Richard.  "We  haven't  any  claim  on  you,  really,  and 
yet  we  do  it,  or,  rather,  /do  it,  which  speaks  all  the 
more  strongly  for  your  generosity  and  trustworthiness." 

"  And  you  will  be  away  "  —  Tredennis  began. 

w  Two  or  three  weeks.  It  might  be  more,  but  1  think 
not.  We  separate  here,  I  think,  as  I  am  going  to  drop 
in  on  Planefield.  Good-night,  and  thanks." 

"  Good-night,'*  responded  TredeDnis,  and  they  shook 
hands  and  parted. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

DURING  the  hot  days  and  nights  of  the  next  few 
ffeeks  Tredennis  found  life  rather  a  dreary  affair. 
Gradually  the  familiar  faces  he  met  on  the  avenue 
became  fewer  and  fewer ;  the  houses  he  knew  one  after 
another  assumed  their  air  of  summer  desertion,  offering 
as  their  only  evidences  of  life  an  occasional  colored  ser- 
vant sunning  him  or  herself  on  the  steps ;  the  crowds  of 
nursery-maids,  with  their  charges,  thinned  out  in  the 
parks,  and  the  freshness  of  the  leaves  was  lost  under  a 
coating  of  dust,  while  the  countenances  of  those  for 
whom  there  was  no  prospect  of  relief  expressed  either 
a  languid  sense  of  injury  or  the  patience  of  despair. 

"But,  after  all,"  Tredennis  said,  on  two  or  three  occa- 
sions, as  he  sat  in  one  of  the  parks  in  the  evening,  — 
"after  all,  I  suppose  most  of  them  have  —  an  object," 
adding  the  last  two  words  with  a  faint  smile. 

He  was  obliged  to  confess  to  himself  that  of  late  he 
found  that  the  work  which  he  had  regarded  as  his  object 
had  ceased  ijo  satisfy  him.  He  gave  his  attention  to  it 
with  stern  persistence,  and  refused  to  spare  himself 
when  he  found  his  attention  wandering ;  he  even  under- 
took additional  labor,  writing  in  his  moments  of  leisure 
several  notable  articles  upon  various  important  question* 
of  the  day,  and  yet  he  had  time  left  to  hang  heavily  on 
his  hands  and  fill  him  with  weariness  ;  and  at  last  there 
came  an  evening  when,  after  sitting  in  one  of  the  parks 
until  the  lamps  were  lighted,  he  rose  suddenly  from  his 
seat,  and  spoke  as  if  to  the  silence  and  shadow  about 
him. 

"  Why  should  I  try  to  hide  the  truth  from  myself?  " 
he  said.  "  It  is  too  late  for  that.  I  may  as  well  face 
it  like  a  man,  and  bear  it  like  one.  Many  a  brave  fel- 


160  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

low  has  carried  a  bullet  in  his  body  down  to  his  grave, 
and  seldom  winced.  This  is  something  like  that,  I 
suppose,  only  that  pain"--  And  he  drew  a  sharp, 
hard  breath,  and  walked  away  down  the  deserted  path 
without  ending  the  sentence. 

He  made  a  struggle  after  this  to  re-.ist  one  poor  temp- 
tation which  beset  him  daily,  —  the  temptation  to  pass 
through  the  street  in  which  stood  the  familiar  house,  with 
its  drawn  blinds  and  closed  doors.  Sometimes,  when 
he  rose  in  the  morning,  he  was  so  filled  with  an  unrea- 
soning yearning  for  a  sight  of  its  blankness  that  he  was 
overwhelmed  by  it,  and  went  out  before  he  breakfasted. 

"It  is  weakness  and  self-indulgence,"  he  would  say; 
"  but  it  is  a  very  little  thing,  and  it  can  hurt  no  one  — 
it  is  only  a  little  thing,  after  all."  And  he  found  a 
piteous  pleasure  —  at  which  at  first  he  tried  to  smile, 
but  at  which  before  long  he  ceased  even  to  try  to  smile 
—  in  the  slow  walk  down  the  street,  on  which  he  could 
see  this  window  or  that,  and  remember  some  day  when 
he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Bertha  through  it,  or  some 
night  he  had  spent  in  the  room  within  when  she  had 
been  gayer  than  usual,  or  quieter,  —  when  she  had 
given  him  some  new  wound,  perhaps,  or  when  she  had 
half-healed  an  old  one  in  some  mood  of  relenting  he  had 
not  understood. 

w  There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  understand  any 
woman,"  was  his  simple  thought.  "  And  why  should  1 
understand  her,  unless  she  chose  to  let  me  ?  She  is  like 
no  other  woman." 

He  was  quite  sure  of  this.  In  his  thoughts  of  her  he 
found  every  word  and  act  of  hers  worth  remembering 
and  even  repeating  mentally  again  and  again  for  the  sake 
of  the  magnetic  grace  which  belonged  only  to  herself. 
and  it  never  once  occurred  to  him  that  his  own  deep 
sympathy  and  tender  fancy  might  brighten  all  she  did. 

"  When  she  speaks,"  he  thought,  "  how  the  dullest  of 
them  stir  and  listen  !  When  she  moves  across  a  room, 
how  natural  it  is  to  turn  and  look  at  her,  and  be  inter- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

ested  in  what  she  is  going  to  do !  What  life  1  have 
seen  her  put  in  some  poor,  awkward  wretch  by  only 
seating  herself  near  him  and  speaking  to  him  of  some 
common  thing !  One  does  not  know  what  her  gift  is,  and 
whether  it  is  well  for  her  or  ill  that  it  was  given  her,  but 
one  sees  it  in  the  simplest  thing  she  does." 

It  was  hard  to  avoid  giving  himself  up  to  such 
thoughts  as  these,  and  when  he  most  needed  refuge 
from  them  he  always  sought  it  in  the  society  of  the  pro- 
fessor; so  there  were  few  evenings  when  he  did  not 
spend  an  hour  or  so  with  him,  and  their  friendship  grew 
and  waxed  strong  until  there  could  scarcely  have  been  a 
closer  bond  between  them. 

About  two  weeks  after  Richard  Ainory's  departure, 
making  his  call  later  than  usual  one  evening,  he  met, 
coming  down  the  steps,  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  who  stopped, 
with  his  usual  civility,  to  shake  hands  with  him. 

"  It  is  some  weeks  since  we  have  crossed  each  other's 
paths,  colonel,"  he  said,  scrutinizing  him  rather  closely  : 
"and,  in  the  meantime,  I  am  afraid  you  have  not  been 
well." 

w  Amory  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  a  short  time 
ago,"  responded  Tredennis,  "and  so  did  the  professor. 
So,  perhaps,  there  is  some  truth  in  it.  I  hadn't  noticed 
it  myself." 

"  You  will  presently,  I  assure  you,"  said  Arbuthnot, 
still  regarding  him  with  an  air  of  interest.  "  Perhaps 
Washington  doesn't  agree  with  you.  I  have  heard  of 
people  who  couldn't  stand  it.  They  usually  called  it 
malaria,  but  I  think  there  was  generally  something"  — 
He  checked  himself  somewhat  abruptly,  which  was  a 
rather  unusual  demonstration  on  his  part,  as  it  was  his 
liabit  to  weigh  his  speech  with  laudable  care  and  de- 
liberation. "You  are  going  to  see  the  professor?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Tredennis. 

The  idea  was  presenting  itself  to  his  mind  that  there 
was  a  suggestion  of  something  unusual  in  the  questioner's 


162  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION 

manner ;  that  it  was  not  so  entirely  serene  as  WSLJ  cus- 
tomary; that  there  was  e?en  a  hint  of  some  inward 
excitement  strong  enough  to  be  repressed  only  by  an 
effort.  And  the  consciousness  of  this  impressed  itself 
upon  him  even  while  a  flow  of  light  talk  went  on,  and 
Arbuthaot  smiled  at  him  from  his  upper  step. 

"I  have  been  to  see  the  professor,  too,"  he  was  saying, 
w  and  I  felt  it  was  something  of  an  audacity.  His  invi- 
tations to  me  have  always  been  of  the  most  general 
nature ;  but  I  thought  I  would  take  the  liberty  of  pre- 
tending that  I  fancied  he  regarded  them  seriously.  He 
was  very  good  to  me,  and  exhibited  wonderful  presence 
of  mind  in  not  revealing  that  he  was  surprised  to  see  me. 
I  tried  not  to  stay  long  enough  to  tire  him,  and  he  was 
sufficiently  amiable  to  ask  me  to  come  again.  He  evi- 
dently appreciated  the  desolation  of  my  circumstances." 

"You  are  finding  it  dull?"  said  Tredennis. 

"Dull!"  repeated  Arbuthnot.  "Yes;  I  think  you 
might  call  it  dull.  The  people  who  kindly  condescend 
to  notice  me  in  the  winter  have  gone  away,  and  my 
di  ess-coat  is  packed  in  camphor.  I  have  ceased  to  be 
useful ;  and,  even  if  Fate  had  permitted  me  to  be  orna- 
mental, where  should  I  air  my  charms  ?  There  seems 
really  no  reason  why  I  should  exist,  until  next  winter, 
when  I  may  be  useful  again,  and  receive  in  return  my 
modicum  of  entertainment.  To  be  merely  a  superior 
young  man  in  a  department  is  not  remunerative  in  sum- 
mer, as  one  ceases  to  glean  the  results  of  one's  superi- 
ority. At  present  I  might  as  well  be  inferior,  and 
neither  dance,  nor  talk,  nor  sing,  and  be  utterly  inca- 
pacitated by  nature  for  either  carrying  wraps  or  picking 
up  handkerchiefs  ;  and  you  cannot  disport  yourself  at 
the  watering-places  of  the  rich  and  great  on  a  salary  ot 
a  hundred  dollars  a  month  ;  and  you  could  only  get  your 
sordid  '  month's  leave,'  if  such  a  thing  were  possible." 

"I — have  been  dull  myself,"  said  Tredennis,  hesi- 
tantly. 

*  If  it  should  ever  occur  to  you  to  drop  in  and  see  a 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTR  IT1ON. 

fellow-sufferer,"  said  Arbutbnot,  "  it  would  relieve  the 
monotony  of  my  lot,  at  least,  and  might  awaken  in  me 
some  generous  emotions." 

Tredennis  looked  up  at. him. 

"It  never  has  occurred  to  you  so  far,  I  see,"  was 
Arbuthnot's  light  reply  to  the  look ;  "but,  if  it  should, 
don't  resist  the  impulse.  I  can  assure  you  it  is  a  lauda- 
ble one.  And  my  humble  apartment  has  the  advantage 
of  comparative  coolness." 

When  Tredennis  entered  the  library  he  found  the 
professor  sitting  in  his  usual  summer  seat,  near  the  win- 
dow. A  newspaper  lay  open  on  his  knee,  but  he  was 
not  reading  it ;  he  seemed,  indeed,  to  have  fallen  into 
a  reverie  of  a  rather  puzzling  kind. 

"Did  you  meet  any  one  as  you  came  in?"  he  asked 
of  Tredennis,  as  soon  as  they  had  exchanged  greetings. 

"I  met  Mr.  Arbuthnot,"  Tredennis  answered,  "and 
stopped  a  few  moments  on  the  steps  to  talk  to  him." 

"He  has  been  entertaining  me  for  the  last  hour,"  said 
the  professor,  taking  off  his  glasses  and  beginning  to 
polish  them.  "  Now,  will  you  tell  me,"  he  asked,  with 
his  quiet  air  of  reflective  inquiry  into  an  interesting  sub- 
ject,— "will  you  tell  me  why  he  comes  to  entertain 
me?" 

"He  gave  me  the  impression,"  answered  Tredennis, 
"  that  his  object  in  coming  was  that  you  might  entertain 
him,  and  he  added  that  you  were  very  good  to  him, 
and  he  appeared  to  have  enjoyed  his  call  very  much," 

"  That  is  his  way,"  responded  the  professor,  impar- 
tially. "And  a  most  agreeable  way  it  is.  To  be  born 
with  such  a  way  as  a  natural  heritage  is  to  be  a  social 
millionnaire.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  it  may  be  a 
gift  entirely  apart  from  all  morals  and  substantial  virtue.*. 
Bertha  has  it.  I  don't  know  where  she  got  it.  Not 
from  me,  and  not  from  her  poor  mother.  I  say  it  may 
be  apart  from  all  morals  and  substantial  virtues.  T 
don't  say  it  always  is.  I  haven't  at  all  made  up  my 
mind  what  attributes  go  along  with  it  in  Arbuthnot'* 


164  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

case.  I  should  like  to  decide.  But  it  wouM  be  a* 
agreeable  way  in  a  criminal  of  the  deepest  dye.  It  is 
certainly  agreeable  that  he  should  in  some  subtle  man- 
ner be  able  to  place  me  in  the  picturesque  attitude  of  a 
dignified  and  entertaining  host.  I  didn't  entertain  him 
at  all,"  he  added,  simply.  "I  sat  and  listened  to  him." 

"He  is  frequently  well  worth  listening  to,"  com- 
mented Tredennis. 

"  He  was  we!  worth  listening  to  this  evening,"  said 
the  professor.  "  And  yet  he  was  light  enough.  He  had 
two  or  three  English  periodicals  under  his  arm,  — one 
of  them  was  f  Punch,'  —  and  — and  I  found  myself  laugh- 
ing quite  heartily  over  it.  And  then  there  was  some- 
thing about  a  new  comic  opera,  and  he  seemed  to  know 
the  libretto  by  heart,  and  ran  over  an  air  or  so  on  the 
piano.  And  he  had  been  reading  a  new  book,  and  was 
rather  clever  about  it  —  in  his  way,  of  course,  but  still 
it  was  cleverness.  And  then  he  went  to  the  piano  again 
and  sang  a  captivating  little  love-song  very  well,  and, 
after  it,  got  up  and  said  good-night  —  and  on  the  whole 
I  regretted  it.  I  liked  his  pictures,  I  liked  his  opera,  I 
liked  his  talk  of  the  book,  and  I  liked  his  little  love- 
song.  And  how  should  he  know  that  an  old  dry-bones 
would  like  a  tender  little  ballad  and  be  touched  by  it, 
and  pleased  because  his  sentiment  was  discovered  and 
pandered  to  ?  Oh,  it  is  the  old  story.  It's  his  way  — 
it's  the  way." 

WI  am  beginning  to  think,"  said  Tredennis,  slowly, 
M  that  '  his  way '  might  be  called  sympathy  and  good 
feeling  and  fine  tact,  if  one  wantei  to  be  specially  fair 
to  him." 

The  professor  looked  up  rather  quickly, 

"  I  thought  you  did  not  like  him,"  he  said. 

Tredennis  paused  a  moment,  looking  down  at  the 
carpet  as  if  deliberating. 

"I  don't  think  I  do,"  he  said  at  length ;  "but  it's  no 
fault  of  his  —  the  fault  lies  in  me.  I  haven't  the  way, 
and  I  ain  at  a  disadvantage  with  him.  He  is  never  at  a 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  165 

loss,  and  I  am  ;  he  is  ready-witted  and  self-possessed  ;  I 
am  slow  and  rigid,  and  I  suppose  it  is  human  that  I 
should  try  to  imagine  at  times  that  I  am  at  a  disadvan- 
tage only  because  my  virtues  are  more  solid  than  his. 
They  are  not  more  solid ;  they  are  only  more  clumsy 
and  less  available." 

"  You  don't  spare  yourself,"  said  the  professor. 

"  Why  should  I  spare  myself?  "  said  Tredennis,  knit- 
ting his  brows.  "After  all,  he  never  spares  himself. 
He  knows  better.  He  would  be  just  to  me.  Why 
should  I  let  him  place  me  at  a  disadvantage  again  by 
being  unjust  to  him?  And  why  should  we  insist  that 
the  only  good  qualities  are  those  which  are  unor- 
namental  ?  It  is  a  popular  fallacy.  We  like  to  believe 
it.  It  is  very  easy  to  suspect  a  man  of  being  shallow 
because  we  are  sure  we  are  deep  and  he  is  unlike  us. 
This  Arbuthnot "  — 

r '  This  Arbuthnot,' "  interposed  the  professor,  with  a 
smile.  "  It  is  curious  enough  to  hear  you  entering  upon 
a  defence  of  'this  Arbuthnot.'  You  don't  like  him, 
Philip.  You  don't  like  him." 

"  I  don't  like  myself,"  said  Tredennis,  "  when  I  am 
compared  with  him ;  and  I  don't  like  the  tendency  I 
discover  in  myself,  the  tendency  to  disparage  him. 
I  should  like  to  be  fair  to  him,  and  I  find  it  difficult." 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  the  professor,  "it  is  rather  fine 
in  you  to  make  the  effort,  but  "  —  giving  him  one  of  the 
old  admiring  looks  — "  you  are  always  rather  fine, 
Philip." 

"It  would  be  finer,  sir,"  said  Tredennis,  coloring, 
*  if  it  were  not  an  effort." 

"No,"  said  the  professor,  quietly,  "it  would  not  be 
half  so  fine."  And  he  put  out  his  hand  and  let  it  rest 
upon  the  arm  of  the  chaii  in  which  Tredennis  sat,  and 
so  it  rested  as  long  as  their  talk  went  on. 

In  the  meantime  Arbuthnot  walked  rather  slowly 
down  the  street,  quite  conscious  of  finding  it  necessary 
to  make  something  of  an  effort  to  compose  himself.  H 


166  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

was  his  recognition  of  this  necessity  which  hid  caused 
him  to  change  his  first  intention  of  returning  to  his 
bachelor  apartment  after  having  made  his  call  upon 
Professor  Herrick.  And  he  felt  the  necessity  all  the 
more  strongly  after  his  brief  encounter  with  Colonel 
Tredennis. 

"  I  will  go  into  the  park  and  think  it  over,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "  I'll  give  myself  time." 

He  turned  into  Lafayette  Park,  found  a  quiet  seat, 
and  took  out  a  very  excellent  cigar.  He  was  not  en- 
tirely surprised  to  see  that,  as  he  held  the  match  to  it, 
his  hand  was  not  as  steady  as  usual.  Tredennis  had 
thought  him  a  little  pale. 

The  subject  of  his  reflections,  as  he  smoked  his  cigar, 
was  a  comparatively  trivial  incident;  taken  by  itself, 
but  he  had  not  taken  it  by  itself,  because  in  a  flash  it 
had  connected  itself  with  a  score  of  others,  which  at 
the  times  of  their  occurring  had  borne  no  significance 
whatever  to  him. 

His  visit  to  the  professor  had  not  been  made  without 
reasons ;  but  they  had  been  such  reasons  as,  simply 
stated  to  the  majority  of  his  ordinary  acquaintance, 
would  have  been  received  with  open  amazement  or 
polite  discredit,  and  this  principally  because  they  were 
such  very  simple  reasons  indeed.  If  such  persons  had 
been  told  that,  finding  himself  without  any  vestige  of 
entertainment,  he  had  wandered  in  upon  the  professor 
as  a  last  resource,  or  that  he  had  wished  to  ask  of  him 
some  trivial  favor,  or  that  he  had  made  his  call  with- 
out any  reason  whatever,  they  would  have  felt  such 
a  state  of  affairs  probable  enough ;  but  being  informed 
that  while  sitting  in  the  easiest  of  chairs,  in  the  coolest 
possible  negligee,  reading  an  agreeable  piece  of  light 
literature,  and  smoking  a  cigar  before  his  open  window, 
he  had  caught  sight  of  the  professor  at  his  Window,  sitting 
with  his  head  restrig  on  his  hand,  and  being  struck 
vaguely  by  some  air  of  desolateness  and  lassitude  in  the 
solitary  old  figure,  had  calmly  laid  aside  book  and  cigar, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  167 

had  put  himself  into  conventional  attire,  and  had  walked 
across  the  street  with  no  other  intention  than  that  of 
making  the  best  of  gifts  of  entertainment  it  was  cer- 
tainly not  his  habit  to  overvalue, —  those  to  whom  the 
explanation  had  been  made  would  have  taken  the  liberty 
of  feeling  it  somewhat  insufficient,  and  would,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  privately  have  provided  themselves 
with  a  more  complicated  one,  cautiously  insuring  them- 
selves against  imposture  by  rejecting  at  the  outset  the 
simple  and  unvarnished  truth. 

Upon  the  whole,  the  visit  had  been  a  success.  On 
entering,  it  is  true,  he  found  himself  called  upon  to 
admire  the  rapidity  with  which  the  professor  recovered 
from  his  surprise  at  seeing  him ;  but,  as  he  had  not  been 
deluded  by  any  hope  that  his  first  appearance  would 
awaken  unmistakable  delight,  he  managed  to  make  the 
best  of  the  situation.  His  opening  remarks  upon  the 
subject  of  the  weather  were  not  altogether  infelicitous, 
and  then  he  produced  his  late  number  of  "Punch,"  and 
the  professor  laughed,  and,  the  ice  being  broken,  con- 
versation flourished,  and  there  was  no  further  difficulty. 
He  discovered,  somewhat  to  his  surprise,  that  he  was 
in  better  conversational  trim  than  usual. 

"  It  is  a  delusive  condition  to  be  in,"  he  explained  to 
the  professor ;  "  but  experience  has  taught  me  not  to  be 
taken  in  by  it  and  expect  future  development.  It  won't 
continue,  as  you  no  doubt  suspect.  It  is  the  result  of 
entire  social  stagnation  for  several  weeks.  I  am  merely 
letting  off  all  my  fireworks  at  once,  inspired  to  the 
improvidence  by  your  presence.  I  am  a  poor  creature, 
as  you  know  ;  but  even  a  poor  creature  is  likely  to  suffer 
from  an  idea  a  day.  The  mental  accumulations  of  this 
summer,  carefully  economized,  will  support  me  in 
penury  during  the  entire  ensuing  season.  I  only  con- 
jure you  not  to  betray  me  when  you  hear  me  repeat  the 
same  things  by  instalments  at  Mrs.  Amory's  evenings." 

And,  saying  it,  he  saw  the  professor's  face  change  in 
some  subtle  way  as  he  looked  at  him.  What  there  was 


168  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

in  this  look  and  change  to  make  him  conscious  of  an  in« 
ward  start  he  could  not  have  told.  It  was  the  merest 
lifting  of  the  lids,  combined  with  an  almost  impercepti- 
ble movement  of  the  muscles  about  the  mouth  ;  and  yet 
he  found  it  difficult  to  avoid  pausing  for  a  moment* 
But  he  accomplished  the  feat,  and  felt  he  had  reason  to 
be  rather  proud  of  it.  "  Though  what  there  is  to  star- 
tle him  in  my  mention  of  Mrs.  Amory's  evenings,"  he 
reflected,  "  it  would  require  an  intellect  to  explain." 

Being  somewhat  given  to  finding  entertainment  in 
quiet  speculation  upon  passing  events,  he  would  doubt- 
less have  given  some  attention  to  the  incident,  even  if  it 
had  remained  a  solitary  unexplained  and  mystifying 
trifle.  But  it  was  not  left  to  stand  alone  in  his  mind. 

It  was  not  fifteen  minutes  before,  in  drawing  his  hand- 
kerchief from  his  breast-pocket,  he  accidentally  drew 
forth  with  it  a  letter,  which  fell  upon  the  newspaper 
lying  upon  the  professor's  lap,  and  for  a  moment  rested 
there  with  the  address  upward. 

And  the  instant  he  glanced  from  the  pretty  feminine 
envelope  to  the  professor's  face  Arbuthnot  recognized 
the  fact  that  something  altogether  unexpected  had 
occurred  again. 

As  he  had  looked  from  the  envelope  to  the  professor , 
so  the  professor  looked  from  the  envelope  to  him.  Then 
he  picked  the  letter  up  and  returned  it. 

"It  is  a  letter,"  Arbuthnot  began,  —  "a  letter"  — 
and  paused  ignominiously. 

'*  Yes,"  said  the  professor,  as  if  he  had  lost  something 
of  his  own  gentle  self-possession.  "  I  see  it  is  a  letter." 

It  was  not  a  happy  remark,  nor  did  Arbuthnot  feel 
his  own  next  effort  a  particularly  successful  one. 

''It  is  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Amory,"  he  said.  "  She  is 
kind  enough  to  write  to  me  occasionally.'" 

"Yes,"  responded  the  professor.  "I  saw  that  it  was 
from  Bertha.  Her  hand  is  easily  recognized." 

"It  is  an  unusual  hand,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  And  her 
letters  are  very  like  herself.  When  it  occurs  to  her  tc 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  169 

remember  me — which  doesn't  happen  as  frequently  as 
I  could  wish  —  I  consider  myself  fortunate.  She  writes 
as  she  talks,  and  very  few  people  do  that." 

He  ended  with  a  greater  degree  of  composure  than  he 
had  begun  with,  but  to  his  surprise  he  felt  that  hia 
pulses  had  quickened,  and  that  there  had  risen  to  his  face 
a  touch  of  warmth  suggestive  of  some  increase  of  e:  lor, 
and  he  did  not  enjoy  the  sensation.  He  began  to  oper 
the  letter. 

"  Shall  1 "  —  he  said,  and  then  suddenly  stopped. 

He  knew  why  he  had  stopped,  but  the  professor  did 
not,  and  to  make  the  pause  and  return  the  letter  to  its 
envelope  and  its  place  in  his  pocket  without  an  expla- 
nation required  something  like  hardihood. 

"  She  is  well,  and  seems  to  be  taking  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  to  rest,"  he  said,  and  picked  up  his 
"Punch"  again,  returning  to  his  half-finished  comment 
upon  its  cartoon  as  if  no  interruption  had  taken  place. 

As  he  sat  on  his  seat  in  the  park,  apparently  given 
up  to  undivided  enjoyment  of  his  cigar,  his  mind  was 
filled  with  a  tumult  of  thought.  He  had  not  been  under 
the  influence  of  such  mental  excitement  for  years.  Sud- 
denly he  found  himself  confronting  a  revelation  per- 
fectly astounding  to  him. 

"  And  so  /am  the  man  ! "  he  said,  at  last.  "  /am  the 
man ! " 

He  took  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth  and  looked  at  the 
end  of  it  with  an  air  of  deliberate  reflection,  as  is  the 
masculine  habit. 

"It  doesn't  say  much  for  me,"  he  added,  "that  I 
never  once  suspected  it  —  not  once." 

Then  he  replaced  his  cigar,  with  something  like  a 
sigh. 

"We  are  a  blind  lot,"  he  said. 

He  did  not  feel  the  situation  a  pleasant  one ;  there 
were  circumstances  under  which  he  would  have  resented 
it  with  a  vigor  and  happy  ingenuity  of  resource  which 
would  have  stood  him  in  good  stead ;  but  there  was  no 


170  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

resentment  in  his  present  mood.  From  the  moment  the 
truth  had  dawned  upon  him,  he  had  treated  it  without 
even  the  most  indirect  reference  to  his  own  very  natural 
feelings,  and  there  had  been  more  sacrifice  of  himself 
and  his  own  peculiarities  in  his  action  when  he  had  re- 
turned the  letter  to  his  pocket  than  even  he  himself 
realized. 

"  It  was  not  the  letter  to  show  him,"  was  his  thought. 
w  She  does  not  know  how  much  she  tells  me.  He  would 
nave  understood  it  as  I  do." 

He  went  over  a  good  deal  of  ground  mentally  as  he 
sat  in  the  deepening  dusk,  and  he  thought  clearly  and 
dispassionately,  as  was  his  habit  when  he  allowed  him- 
self to  think  at  all.  By  the  time  he  had  arrived  at  his 
conclusions  it  was  quite  dark.  Then  he  threw  the  end 
of  his  last  cigar  away  and  arose,  and  there  was  no  deny- 
ing that  he  was  pale  still,  and  wore  a  curiously  intense 
expression. 

"  If  there  is  one  thing  neither  man  nor  devil  can  put 
a  stop  to,"  he  said,  "  it  is  an  experience  such  as  that. 
It  will  go  on  to  one  of  two  ends,  —  it  will  kill  her,  or  she 
will  kill  it.  The  wider  of  the  mark  they  shoot,  the 
easier  for  her ;  and  as  for  me,"  he  added,  with  a  rather 
faint  and  dreary  smile,  "  perhaps  it  suits  me  well  enough 
to  be  merely  an  alleviating  circumstance.  It's  all  I'm 
good  for.  Let  them  think  as  they  please." 

And  he  brushed  an  atom  of  cigar-ash  from  his  sleeve 
with  his  rather  too  finely  feminine  hand,  and  walked 
away, 


THROUGH   ONE  ADMINISTRATION.  171 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

HE  paid  the  professor  another  visit  a  few  days  later, 
tad  afterwards  another,  and  another. 

w  What,"  said  the  professor,  at  the  end  of  his  second 
visit,  "is  it  ten  o'clock?  I  assure  you  it  is  usually 
much  later  than  this  when  it  strikes  ten." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  I  never  heard  that 
civility  accomplished  so  dexterously  before.  It  is  per- 
fectly easy  to  explain  the  preternatural  adroitness  of 
speech  on  which  Mrs.  Amory  prides  herself.  But  don't 
be  too  kind  to  me,  professor,  and  weaken  my  resolu- 
tion not  to  present  myself  unless  I  have  just  appro- 
priated an  idea  from  somewhere.  If  I  should  appear 
some  day  au  naturel,  not  having  taken  the  precaution  to 
attire  myself  in  the  mature  reflections  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, I  shouldn't  pay  you  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  see- 
ing me,  I'll  confess  beforehand." 

"I  once  told  you,"  said  the  professor  to  Tredennis, 
after  the  fourth  visit,  "  that  I  was  not  fond  of  him,  but 
there  had  been  times  when  I  had  been  threatened  with 
it.  This  is  one  of  the  times.  Ah ! "  with  a  sigh  of 
fatigue,  "I  understand  the  attraction — I  understand  it." 

The  following  week  Tredennis  arrived  at  the  house 
one  evening  to  find  it  in  some  confusion.  The  coupe  of 
a  prominent  medical  man  stood  before  the  pavement, 
and  the  servant  who  opened  the  door  looked  agitated. 

w  The  professor,  sir,"  he  said,  "  has  had  a  fall.  We 
hope  he  aint  much  hurt,  and  Mr.  Arbuthnot  and  the 
doctor  are  with  him." 

"Ask  if  I  may  go  upstairs,"  said  Tredennis ;  and,  as 
he  asked  it,  Arbuthnot  appeared  on  the  landing  above, 
and,  seeing  who  was  below,  came  down  at  once. 

"  There  is  no  real  cause  for  alarm,"  he  said,  w  thoagh 


172  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

he  has  had  a  shock.  He  had  been  out,  and  the  heat 
must  have  been  too  much  for  him.  As  he  was  coming 
up  the  steps  he  felt  giddy  and  lost  his  footing,  and  fell. 
Doctor  Malcom  is  with  him,  and  says  he  needs  nothing 
but  entire  quiet.  1  am  glad  you  have  come.  Did  you 
receive  my  message  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Tredennis.  "  I  have  not  been  to  my 
room." 

"Come  into  the  library,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "I  have 
something  to  say  to  you." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  room,  and  Tredennis  followed 
him,  wondering.  When  they  got  inside  Arbuthnot 
turned  and  closed  the  door. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  "you  know  no  more  certainly 
than  I  do  where  Mr  Amory  is  to  be  found."  And  as 
he  spoke  he  took  a  telegram  from  his  pocket. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  demanded  Tredennis.  "What 
has"  — 

"This  came  almost  immediately  after  the  professor's 
accident,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "It  is  from  Mrs.  Amory, 
asking  him  to  come  to  her.  Janey  is  very  ill." 

"What!"  exclaimed  Tredennis.  "And  she  alone, 
and  probably  without  any  physician  she  relies  on  ! " 

"  Some  one  must  go  to  her,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "  and 
the  professor  must  know  nothing  of  it.  If  we  knew  of 
any  woman  friend  of  hers  we  might  appeal  to  her ;  but 
everybody  is  out  of  town." 

He  paused  a  second,  his  eyes  fixed  on  Tredennis's 
changing  face. 

"If  you  will  remain  with  the  professor,"  he  said,  "I 
will  go  myself,  and  take  Doctor  Wentworth  with  me." 

"  You  !  "  said  Tredennis. 

"I  shdl  be  better  than  nc  thing,"  replied  Arbuthnotv 
quietly.  "  I  can  do  what  I  am  told  to  do,  and  she 
mustn't  be  left  alone.  If  her  mother  had  been  alive, 
she  would  have  gone  ;  if  her  father  had  been  well,  he 
would  have  gone  ,-  if  her  husband  had  been  here  "  — 

"  But  he  is  not  here,"  said  Tredennis,  with  a  bitter 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  173 

nees  not  strictly  just.  w  Heaven  only  knows  wheie  he 
is." 

"  It  would  be  rather  hazardous  to  trust  to  a  telegram 
reaching  him  at  Merrittsville,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  We 
are  not  going  to  leave  her  alone  even  until  we  have 
tried  Merrittsville.  What  must  be  done  must  be  done 
now.  I  will  go  and  see  Doctor  Went  worth  at  once, 
and  we  can  leave  in  an  hour  if  I  find  him.  You  can 
tell  the  professor  I  was  called  away." 

He  made  a  step  toward  the  door,  and  as  he  did  so 
Tredennis  turned  suddenly. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said. 

Arbuthnot  came  back. 

"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

There  was  a  curious  pause,  which,  though  it  lasted 
scarcely  longer  than  a  second,  was  still  a  pause. 

"If  /go,"  said  Tredennis,  "it will  be  easier  to  explain 
my  absence  to  the  professor."  And  then  there  was  a 
pause  again,  and  each  man  looked  at  the  other,  and  each 
was  a  trifle  pale. 

It  was  Arbuthnot  who  spoke  first. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  without  moving  a  muscle,  "that 
you  had  better  let  me  go." 

"Why?"  said  Tredennis,  and  the  unnatural  quality 
of  his  voice  startled  himself. 

"Because,"  said  Arbuthnot,  as  calmly  as  before,  "you 
will  be  conferring  a  favor  on  me,  if  you  do.  I  want  an 
excuse  for  getting  out  of  town,  and  — I  want  an  oppor- 
tunity to  be  of  some  slight  service  to  Mrs.  Amory." 

Before  the  dignity  of  the  stalwart  figure  towering 
above  his  slighter  proportions  he  knew  he  appeared  to 
no  advantage  as  he  said  the  words ;  but  to  have  made 
the  best  of  himself  he  must  have  relinquished  his  point 
at  the  outset,  and  this  he  had  no  intention  of  doing, 
though  he  was  not  enjoying  himself.  A  certain  cold- 
blooded pertinacity  which  he  had  acquired  after  many 
battles  with  himself  was  very  useful  to  him  at  the 
moment. 


174  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

<f  The  worst  thing  that  could  happen  to  her  just  now," 
he  had  said  to  himself,  ten  minutes  before,  "  would  be 
that  he  should  go  to  her  in  her  trouble. "  And  upon 
this  conviction  he  took  his  stand. 

In  placing  himself  in  the  breach  he  knew  that  he  had 
no  means  of  defence  whatever ;  that  any  reasons  for 
his  course  he  might  offer  must  appear,  by  their  flimsi- 
ness,  to  betray  in  him  entire  inadequacy  to  the  situation 
in  which  he  seemed  to  stand,  and  that  he  must  present 
himself  in  the  character  of  a  victim  to  his  own  bold  but 
shallow  devices,  and  simply  brazen  the  matter  out ;  and 
when  one  reflects  upon  human  weakness  it  is  certainly 
not  to  his  discredit  that  he  had  calmly  resigned  himself 
to  this  before  entering  the  room.  There  was  no  trivial- 
ity in  Tredennis's  mood,  and  he  made  no  pretence  of 
any.  The  half  darkness  of  the  room,  which  had  been 
shaded  from  the  sun  during  the  day,  added  to  the  signifi- 
cance of  every  line  in  his  face.  As  he  stood,  with  folded 
arms,  the  shadows  seemed  to  make  him  look  larger,  to 
mark  his  pallor,  and  deepen  the  intensity  of  his  expres- 
sion. 

"  Give  me  a  better  reason,"  he  said. 

Arbuthnot  paused.  What  he  saw  in  the  man  moved 
him  strongly.  In  the  light  of  that  past  of  his,  which 
was  a  mystery  to  his  friends,  he  often  saw  with  terrible 
clearness  much  he  was  not  suspected  of  seeing  at  all, 
and  here  he  recognized  what  awakened  in  him  both  pity 
and  respect. 

" I  have  no  better  one,"  he  answered.  "I  tell  you  I 
miss  the  exhilaration  of  Mrs.  Amory's  society  and  want 
to  see  her,  and  hope  she  will  not  be  sorry  to  see  me/ 
And,  having  said  it,  he  paused  again  before  making  his 
coup  d'etat.  Then  he  spoke  deliberately,  looking  Tre- 
dennis  in  the  eyes.  "  That  you  should  think  anything 
detrimental  to  Mrs.  Amory,  even  in  the  most  shadowy 
way,  is  out  of  the  question,"  he  said.  "  Think  of  me 
what  you  please." 

w  I  shall  think  nothing  that  is  detrimental  to  any  man 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  173 


who  is  her  friend,"  said  Tredennis,  and  there  was 
sion  in  the  words,  though  he  had  tried  to  repress  it. 

"  Her  friendship  would  be  a  good  defence  for  a  man 
against  any  wrong  that  was  in  him,"  said  Arbuthnot, 
and  this  time  the  sudden  stir  of  feeling  in  him  was  not 
altogether  concealed.  Let  me  have  my  way,"  ho  ended. 
"It  will  do  noharjn." 

"It  will  do  no  good,"  said  Tredennis. 

"No,"  answered  Arbuthnot,  recovering  his  impervi- 
ous air,  "  it  will  do  no  good,  but  one  has  to  be  sanguine 
to  expect  good.  Perhaps  I  need  pity,"  he  added. 
"  Suppose  you  are  generous  and  show  it  me." 

He  could  ^ot  help  seeing  the  dramatic  side  of  the 
situation,  and  with  half-conscious  irony  abandoning 
himsell  to  it.  All  at^  once  he  seemed  to  have  deserted 
the  well-regulated  and  decently  arranged  commonplaces 
of  his  ordinary  life,  and  to  be  taking  part  in  a  theatrical 
performance  of  rather  fine  and  subtle  quality,  and  he 
waited  with  intense  interest  to  see  what  Tredennis 
would  do. 

What  he  did  was  characteristic  of  him.  He  had  un- 
consciously taken  two  or  three  hurried  steps  across  the 
room,  and  he  turned  and  stood  still. 

"It  is  I  who  must  go,"  he  said. 

"You  are  sure  of  that?  "  said  Arbuthnot. 

"We  have  never  found  it  easy  to  understand  each 
other,"  Tredennis  answered,  "though  perhaps  you  have 
understood  me  better  than  I  have  understood  you. 
You  are  quicker  and  more  subtle  than  I  am.  I  only 
seem  able  to  see  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  do  one  thing. 
I  only  see  one  thing  now.  It  is  better  that  I  should  go." 

"  You  mean,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "  better  for  me?" 

Tredennis  looked  down  at  the  floor. 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

A  second  or  so  of  silence  followed,  in  which  Arbuth- 
not simply  stood  and  looked  at  him.  The  utter  useless- 
ness  of  the  effort  he  had  made  was  borne  in  upon  him 
ha  a  manner  which  overpowered  him. 


176  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Then,"  he  remarked  at  length,  "  if  you  are  consid- 
ering me,  there  seems  nothing  more  to  bo  said.  Will 
you  go  and  tell  the  professor  that  you  are  called  away, 
or  shall  I?" 

"I  will  go  myself,"  replied  Tredennis. 

He  turned  to  leave  the  room,  and  Arbuthnot  walked 
slowly  toward  the  window.  The  next  moment  Treden- 
nis turned  from  the  door  and  followed  him. 

"If  I  have  ever  done  you  injustice,"  he  said,  "the 
time  is  past  for  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon." 

"Perhaps  it  is  not  justice  I  need, ".said  Arbuthnot, 
"but  mercy  —  and  I  don't  think  you  have  ever  been 
unjust  to  me.  It  wouldn't  have  been  easy." 

"In  my  place,"  said  Tredennis,  with  a  visible  effort, 
"  you  would  find  it  easier  than  I  do  to  say  what  you 
wished.  I "  — 

"You  mean  that  you  pity  me,"  Arbuthnot  interposed. 

"As  I  said  before,  perhaps  I  need  pity.     Sometimes  I 

think  I  do  ; "  and  the  slight  touc  h  of  dreariness  in  his 

one  echoed  in  Tredennis's  ear   Jong  after  he  had  left 

aim  and  gone  on  hie  way. 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  177 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

IT  was  ten  o'clock  and  bright  moonlight  when  Tre- 
dennis  reached  his  destination,  the  train  having  brought 
him  to  a  way-side  station  two  miles  distant,  where  he 
had  hired  a  horse,  and  struck  out  into  the  county  road. 
In  those  good  old  days  when  the  dwelling  of  every  Vir- 
ginia gentleman  was  his  "mansion,"  the  substantial 
pile  of  red  brick  before  whose  gate-way  he  dismounted 
had  been  a  mansion  too,  and  had  not  been  disposed  to 
f  rifle  with  its  title,  but  had  insisted  upon  it  with  a  digni- 
fied squareness  which  scorned  all  architectural  devices 
to  attract  attention.  Its  first  owner  had  chosen  its  site 
with  a  view  to  the  young  "  shade-trees  "  upon  it,  and 
while  he  had  lived  upon  his  property  had  been  almost 
as  proud  of  his  trees  as  of  his  "  mansion  " ;  and  when, 
long  afterward,  changes  had  taken  place,  and  the  objects 
of  his  pride  fell  into  degenerate  hands,  as  the  glories  of 
the  mansion  faded,  its  old  friends,  the  trees,  grew  and 
flourished,  and  seemed  to  close  kindly  in  about  it,  as  if 
to  soften  and  shadow  its  decay. 

On  each  side  of  the  drive  which  led  down  to  the 
gateway  grew  an  irregular  line  of  these  trees,  here  and 
there  shading  the  way  from  side  to  side,  and  again 
leaving  a  space  for  the  moonlight  to  stream  upon.  As 
he  tied  his  horse  Tredennis  glanced  up  this  drive-way 
toward  the  house. 

"There  is  a  light  burning  in  one  of  the  rooms,"  he 
said.  "It  must  be  there  that" —  He  broke  off  in 
the  midst  of  a  sentence,  his  attention  suddenly  attracted 
by  a  figure  which  flitted  across  one  of  the  patches  of 
moonlight. 

He  knew  it  at  once,  though  he  had  had  no  thought  of 
seeing  it  before  entering  the  house.  It  was  Bertha,  in 


178  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

a  white  dress,  and  with  two  large  dogs  following  her, 
leaping  and  panting,  when  she  spoke  in  a  hushed  ^  oice, 
as  if  to  quiet  them. 

She  came  down  toward  the  gate  with  a  light,  hurried 
tread,  and,  when  she  was  within  a  few  feet  of  it,  spoke. 

"  Doctor,"  she  said,  "  oh,  how  glad  I  am  —  how  glad  !  " 
and,  as  she  said  it,  came  out  into  the  broad  moonlight 
again,  and  found  herself  face  to  face  with  Tredennis. 

She  fell  back  from  him  as  if  a  blow  had  been  struck 
her,  —  fell  back  trembling,  and  as  white  as  the  moon  • 
light  itself. 

"  What ! "  she  cried,  "  is  it  you  —  you  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her,  bewildered  by  the  shock  his  pres- 
ence seemed  to  her. 

"I  did  not  think  I  should  frighten  you,"  he  said.  "I 
came  to-night  because  the  professor  was  not  well  enough 
to  make  the  journey.  Doctor  Wentworth  will  be  here 
in  the  morning.  He  would  have  come  with  me,  but 
he  had  an  important  case  to  attend." 

"I  did  not  think  you  would  come,"  she  said,  breath- 
lessly, and  put  out  her  hand,  groping  for  the  support  of 
the  swinging  gate,  which  she  caught  and  held. 

"There  was  no  one  else,"  he  answered. 

He  felt  as  if  he  were  part  of  some  strange  dreain. 
The  stillness,  the  moonlight,  the  heavy  shadows  of  the 
great  trees,  all  added  to  the  unreality  of  the  moment ; 
but  most  unreal  of  all  was  Bertha  herself,  clinging  with 
one  trembling  hand  to  the  gate,  and  looking  up  at  him 
with  dilated  eyes. 

*!  did  not  think  you  would  come,"  she  said  again, 
"  and  it  startled  me  —  and  "  —  She  paused  with  a  poor 
little  effort  at  a  smile,  which  the  next  instant  died  away. 
J*  Don't  —  don't  look  at  me  I  "  she  said,  and,  turning 
away  from  him,  laid  her  face  on  the  hand  clinging  to 
the  gate. 

He  looked  down  at  her  slight  white  figure  and  bent 
head,  and  a  great  tremor  passed  over  him.  The  next 
instant  she  felt  him  standing  close  at  her  side. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  17$ 

"You  must  not  —  do  that,"  he  said,  and  put  out  hie 
hand  and  touched  her  shoulder. 

His  voice  was  almost  a  whisper ;  he  was  scarcely 
conscious  of  what  his  words  were ;  he  had  scarcely  any 
consciousness  of  his  touch.  The  feeing  which  swept 
over  him  needed  no  sense  of  touch  or  sound ;  the  one 
thing  which  overpowered  him  was  his  sudden  sense  of 
a  nearness  to  her  which  was  not  physical  nearness  at  all. 

"Perhaps  I  was  wrong  to  come,"  he  went  on;  "but 
I  could  not  leave  you  alone  —  I  could  not  leave  you 
alone.  I  knew  that  you  were  suffering,  and  I  cjuld 
not  bear  that." 

She  did  not  speak  or  lift  her  head. 

"  Has  it  been  desolate  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  in  a  hushed  voice. 

"I  was  afraid  so,"  he  said.  "You  have  been  alone 
so  long  —  I  thought  of  it  almost  every  hour  of  the  day  ; 
you  are  not  used  to  being  alone.  Perhaps  it  was  a 
mistake.  Why  do  you  tremble  so?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered. 

"  My  poor  child  !  "  he  said.  "  My  poor  child  !  "  And 
then  there  was  a  pause  which  seemed  to  hold  a  lifetime 
of  utter  silence. 

It  was  Bertha  who  ended  it.  She  stirred  a  little,  and 
then  lifted  her  face.  She  looked  as  he  remembered  her 
looking  when  he  had  first  known  her,  only  that  she 
was  paler,  and  there  was  a  wearied  softness  in  her  eyes. 
She  made  no  attempt  at  hiding  the  traces  of  tears  in 
them,  and  she  spoke  as  simply  as  a  child. 

WI  thought  it  was  the  doctor,  when  I  heard  tlie 
horse's  feet,"  she  said;  "and  I  was  afraid  the  dogg 
would  bark  and  waken  Janey.  She  has  just  fallen 
asleep,  and  she  has  slept  so  little.  She  has  been  very 
ill." 

f<  You  have  not  slept,"  he  said. 

"No, "she  replied.  "This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
left  her." 

He  took  her  hand  and  drew  it  gently  through  his  arm. 


180  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  I  will  take  you  up  to  the  house,"  he  said,  "  so  thai 
you  can  hear  every  sound ;  but  you  must  stay  outside 
for  a  little  while.  The  fresh  air  will  do  you  good,  and 
we  can  walk  up  and  down  while  I  tell  you  the  reason 
the  professor  did  not  come." 

All  the  ordinary  conventional  barriers  had  fallen 
fe\rny  from  between  them.  He  did  not  know  why  or 
how,  and  he  did  not  ask.  Suddenly  he  found  himself 
once  again  side  by  side  with  the  Bertha  he  had  fancied 
lost  forever.  All  that  had  bewildered  him  was  gone. 
The  brilliant  little  figure,  with  its  tinkling  ornaments, 
the  unemotional  little  smile,  the  light  laugh,  were  only 
parts  of  a  feverish  dream.  It  was  Bertha  whose  hand 
rested  on  his  arm  —  whose  fair,  young  face  was  pale 
with  watching  over  her  child  —  whose  soft  voice  was 
tremulous  and  tender  with  innocent,  natural  tears.  She 
spoke  very  little.  When  they  had  walked  to  and  fro 
before  the  house  for  a  short  time,  she  said  : 

"Let  us  go  and  sit  down  on  the  steps  of  the  porch," 
and  they  went  and  sat  there  together,  —  he  upon  a  lower 
step,  and  she  a  few  steps  above,  her  hands  clasped  on 
her  knee,  her  face  turned  half  away  from  him.  She 
rarely  looked  at  him,  he  noticed,  even  when  he  spoke 
to  her  or  she  spoke  to  him ;  her  eyes  rested  oftener 
than  not  upon  some  far-away  point  under  the  trees. 

"  You  are  no  better  than  you  were  when  you  went 
away,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  cheek  where  the  moon- 
light whitened  it. 

"No,"  she  answered. 

WI  did  not  think  to  find  you  looking  like  this,"  he 
•aid. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said,  still  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
far-away  shadows,  "perhaps  I  have  not  had  time 
enough.  You  must  give  me  time." 

"  You  have  had  two  months,"  he  returned. 

"  Two  months,"  she  said,  "  is  not  so  long  as  it  seems." 
Ind  between  the  words  there  came  a  curious  little  catcK 
of  the  breath. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  181 

"  It  has  seemed  long  to  yo  i  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

She  turned  her  face  slowly  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Has  it  seemed  long  to  you?"  she  sa?d. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  long  and  dreary." 

She  swa}red  a  little  toward  him  with  a  sort  of  uncon- 
scious movement ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  his  face 
with  a  wistful  questioning ;  he  had  seen  her  look  at  her 
children  so. 

"Was  it  very  hot?"  she  said.  "Were  you  tired? 
Why  did  you  not  go  away  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  want  to  go  away,"  he  answered. 

"  But  you  ought  to  have  gone  away,"  she  said.  "  You 
were  not  used  to  the  heat,  and  —  Let  the  light  fall  on 
your  face  so  that  I  can  see  it ! " 

He  came  a  little  nearer  to  her,  and  as  she  looked  at 
him  the  wistfulness  in  her  eyes  changed  to  something 
else. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  it  has  done  you  harm.  Your  face 
is  quite  changed.  Why  didn't  I  see  it  before  ?  What 
have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  he  answered. 

He  did  not  stir,  or  want  to  stir,  but  sat  almost  breath- 
lessly still,  watching  her,  the  sudden  soft  anxiousness  in 
her  eyes  setting  every  pulse  in  his  body  throbbing. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  you  are  ill  —  you  are  ill  1  How 
could  you  be  so  careless  ?  Why  did  not  papa  "  — 

She  faltered — her  voice  fell  and  broke.  She  even 
drew  back  a  little,  though  her  eyes  still  rested  upoD 
his. 

w  You  were  angry  with  me  when  you  thought  I  did 
not  take  care  of  myself,"  she  said ;  "  and  you  have  been 
as  bad  as  I  was,  and  worse.  You  had  not  so  many 
temptations.  And  she  turned  away,  and  he  found 
himself  looking  only  at  her  cheek  again,  and  the  soft 
side-curve  of  her  mouth. 

"There  is  less  reason  why  I  should  take  earo  of 
myself,"  he  said. 


182  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"You  mean"  —  she  asked,  without  moving  —  "that 
there  are  fewer  people  who  would  liiss  you?" 

"  I  do  not  not  know  of  any  one  who  would  miss 
me." 

Her  hands  stirred  slightly,  as  they  lay  in  her  lap. 

"  That  is  underrating  your  friends,"  she  said,  slowly. 
"But"  —  altering  her  tone  —  "it  is  true,  I  have  th« 
children  and  Richard." 

"  Where  is  Richard?  "  he  asked. 

*  I  don't  know." 

"  When  you  heard  from  him  last,"  he  began. 

"  He  is  a  bad  correspondent,"  she  said. 

"  He  always  finds  so  much  to  fill  his  tune  when  he 
is  away.  There  is  an  understanding  between  us  that 
he  shall  write  very  few  letters.  I  am  responsible 
for  it  myself,  because  I  know  it  spoils  everything 
for  him  when  he  has  an  unwritten  letter  on  his  conscience. 
I  haven't  heard  from  him  first  yet  since  he  went 
West." 

She  arose  from  her  seat  on  the  step. 

"I  will  go  in  now,"  she  said.  "I  must  speak  to 
Mrs.  Lucas  about  giving  you  a  room,  and  then  I  will 
go  to  Janey.  She  is  sleeping  very  well." 

He  arose,  too,  and  stood  below  her,  looking  up. 

"You  must  promise  not  to  think  of  me,"  he  said. 
"  I  did  not  come  here  to  be  considered.  Do  you  think 
an  old  soldier,  who  has  slept  under  the  open  sky  many 
a  night,  cannot  provide  for  himself?  " 

*  Have  you  slept  so  often  ?  "  she  asked,  the  very  trivi- 
ality of  the  question  giving  it  a  strange  sweetness  to 
his  ears. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "And  often  with  no  surety  of 
wakening  with  my  scalp  on." 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  and  made  an  involuntary 
movement  toward  him. 

He  barely  restrained  his  impulse  to  put  out  his 
hands,  but  hers  fell  at  her  sides  the  next  instant. 

"I  ara  a  great  coward,"  she  said.     "It  fills  nee  witb 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  183 

terror  to  hear  of  things  like  that.  Is  it  at  all  likely 
that  you  will  be  ordered  back  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  his  uplifted  eyes  devour- 
ing all  the  sweetness  of  her  face.  "  Would  that "  — 

The  very  madness  of  the  question  forming  itself  on 
his  lips  was  his  own  check. 

"I  don't  want  to  think  of  it,"  he  said.  Then  he 
added,  "  As  I  stand  here  I  look  up  at  you.  I  never 
looked  up  at  you  before." 

"Nor  I  down  at  you,"  she  returned.  "You  are 
always  so  high  above  me.  It  seems  strange  to  look 
down  at  you." 

It  was  all  so  simple  and  inconsequent,  but  every  word 
seemed  full  of  the  mystery  and  emotion  of  the  hour. 
When  he  tried  afterward  to  recall  what  they  had  said  he 
was  bewildered  by  theslightnessof  what  had  been  uttered, 
even  though  the  thrill  of  it  had  not  yet  passed  away. 

He  went  up  the  steps  and  stood  beside  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  speaking  as  gently  as  he  might  have 
spoken  to  a  child.  "  You  make  me  feel  what  a  heavy- 
limbed,  clumsy  fellow  I  am.  All  women  make  me  feel 
it,  but  you  more  than  all  the  rest.  You  look  almost 
like  a  child." 

"But  I  am  not  very  little,"  she  said ;  "it  is  only  be- 
cause I  am  standing  near  you." 

"I  always  think  of  you  as  a  small  creature,"  he 
»aid.  "I  used  to  think,  long  ago,  that  some  one  should 
care  for  you." 

"  You  were  very  good,  long  ago,"  she  answered  softly, 
w  And  you  are  very  good  now  to  have  come  to  try  to 
help  me.  Will  you  come  in  ?" 

"No,"  he  said,  "not  now.  It  might  only  excite  the 
child  to-night  if  she  saw  me,  and  so  long  as  she  is  quiet 
I  will  not  run  the  risk  of  disturbing  her.  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  am  going  to  do.  I  am  not  going  to  leave 
you  alone.  I  shall  walk  up  and  down  beneath  your 
window,  and  if  you  need  me  you  will  know  I  am  there, 
and  you  have  only  to  speak  in  your  lowest  voice.  If 


184  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

she  should  be  worse,  my  horse  is  at  the  gate,  and  1  can 
go  for  the  doctor  at  once." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  kind  of  wonder. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  intend  to  stand  sentinel  aM 
night?"  she  said. 

"I  have  stood  sentinel  before,"  was  his  reply.  "1 
came  to  stand  sentinel.  All  that  I  can  do  is  to  be  read)? 
if  I  am  wanted." 

*  But  I  cannot  let  you  stay  up  all  night,"  she  began. 

"You  said  it  had  been  desolate,"  he  answered. 
"Wont  it  be  less  desolate  to  know  that  —  that  some  one 
is  near  you  ?  " 

«  Oh,  yes  !     Oh,  yes  ! "  she  said.     «  But "  — 

"Go  upstairs,"  he  said,  "and  promise  me  that,  if  she 
still  sleeps,  you  will  lie  down  and  let  your  nurse  watch 
her." 

The  gentle  authority  of  his  manner  seemed  to  impress 
her  curiously.  She  hesitated  as  if  she  scarcely  under- 
stood it. 

M I  —  don't  —  know,"  she  faltered. 

"  You  will  be  better  for  it  to-morrow,"  he  persisted, 
"and  so  will  she." 

"I  never  did  such  a  thing  before,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"  I  shall  be  beneath  the  open  window,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  have  the  ears  of  an  Indian.  I  shall  know  if  she  stirs." 

She  drew  a  soft,  troubled  breath. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "I  will  — go." 

And,  without  another  word,  she  turned  away.  He 
stood  and  watched  her  as  she  moved  slowly  across  the 
wide  porch.  At  the  door  she  stopped  and  turned 
toward  him. 

"But,"  she  said,  faint  lines  showing  themselves  on 
her  forehead,  "  I  shall  be  remembering  that  you  —  are 
riot  asleep." 

K  You  must  not  remember  me  at  all,"  he  answered. 

And  then  he  stood  still  an  1  watched  her  again  until 
she  had  entered  the  house  and  noiselessly  ascended  the 
staircase,  which  was  a  few  yards  fron  the  open  dooi, 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  *9b 

then,  when  he  could  see  her  white  figw<}  m  che 
darkness  no  more,  he  went  out  to  his  place  beneath  the 
window,  and  strode  silently  to  and  fro,  keeping  watch 
and  listening  until  after  the  moon  had  gone  down  ami 
tfis  birds  were  beginning  to  ^tir  in  the  tresa,  ,&  .  f 

r  }  h 


186  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

AT  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  Bertha  caine  down  th<i 
stairs  again.  Her  simple  white  gown  was  a  fresh  one, 
and  there  was  a  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks. 

"  She  slept  nearly  all  night,"  she  said  to  Tredennis, 
when  he  joined  her,  "  and  so  did  I.  I  am  sure  she  is 
better."  Then  she  put  out  her  hand  for  him  to  take. 
"It  is  all  because  you  are  here,"  she  said.  "When  I 
wakened  for  a  moment,  once  or  twice,  and  heard  youi 
footsteps,  it  seemed  to  give  me  courage  and  make  every- 
thing quieter.  Are  you  very  tired?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  "  I  am  not  tired  at  all." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  would  not  tell  me  if  you  were,"  she 
said.  "You  must  come  with  me  now  and  let  me  give 
you  some  breakfast." 

She  led  him  into  a  room  at  the  side  of  the  hall.  When 
the  house  had  been  a  "  mansion  "  it  had  been  considered 
a  very  imposing  apartment,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
a  few  Washingtonian  luxuries,  which  she  had  dexter- 
ously grafted  upon  its  bareness,  it  was  by  no  means 
unpicturesque  even  now. 

"  I  think  I  should  know  that  you  had  lived  here,"  he 
said,  as  he  glanced  around. 

"  Have  I  made  it  so  personal  ?  "  she  replied.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  do  that.  It  was  so  bare  at  first,  and,  ay  I 
had  nothing  to  do,  it  amused  me  to  arrange  it.  Richard 
sent  me  the  rugs,  and  odds  and  ends,  and  I  found  the 
spindle-legged  furniture  in  the  neighborhood.  I  am 
afraid  it  won't  be  safe  for  you  to  sit  down  too  suddenly 
in  the  chairs,  or  to  lean  heavily  on  the  table.  I  think 
you  had  better  choose  that  leathern  arm-chair  and  abide 
by  it.  It  is  quite  substantial." 

He  took  the  seat,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasure 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  187 

of  watching  her  as  she  moved  to  and  fro  between  the 
table  and  an  antique  sideboard,  from  whose  recesses  she 
produced  some  pretty  cups  and  saucers. 

''  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  he  asked. 

w  I  am  going  to  set  the  table  for  your  breakfast,"  she 
said,  "  because  Maria  is  busy  with  the  children,  and  the 
other  nurse  is  with  Janey,  and  the  woman  of  the  house 
is  making  your  coffee  and  rolls." 

w  You  are  going  to  set  the  table  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  It  doesn't  require  preternatural  intelligence,"  she 
answered.  "  It  is  rather  a  simple  thing,  on  the  whole." 

It  seemed  a  very  simple  thing  as  she  did  it,  and  a  very 
pretty  thing.  As  he  leaned  against  the  leathern  back  of 
his  chair,  beginning  vaguely  to  realize  by  a  dawning 
sense  of  weariness  that  he  had  been  up  all  night,  he  felt 
that  he  had  not  awakened  from  his  dream  yet,  or  that 
the  visions  of  the  past  months  were  too  far  away  and  too 
unreal  to  move  him. 

The  early  morning  sunlight  made  its  way  through 
the  vines  embowering  the  window,  and  cast  lace-like 
shadows  of  their  swaying  leaves  upon  the  floor,  and 
upon  Bertha's  dress  when  she  passed  near.  The  soft- 
ness of  the  light  mellowed  everything,  and  intensified 
the  touches  of  color  in  the  fans  and  ornaments  on  the 
walls  and  mantel,  .and  in  the  bits  of  drapery  throwr* 
here  and  there  as  if  by  accident ;  and  in  the  midst  of 
this  color  and  mellowed  light  Bertha  moved  before  him, 
a  slender,  quiet  figure,  making  the  picture  complete. 

It  was  her  quietness  which  impressed  itself  upon 
him  more  than  all  else.  After  the  first  moments,  when 
she  had  uttered  her  cry  on  seeing  him,  and  had  given 
way  in  her  momentary  agitation,  he  had  noticed  that  a 
curious  change  fell  upon  her.  When  she  lifted  her  face 
from  the  gate  all  emotion  seemed  to  have  died  out  of  it ; 
her  voice  was  quiet.  One  of  the  things  he  remembered 
of  their  talk  was  that  they  had  both  spoken  in  voices  so 
low  as  to  be  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

When  the  breakfast  was  brought  in  she  took  a  seat  at 


188  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

the  table  to  pour  out  his  coffee  and  attend  to  his  wants. 
She  ate  very  little  herself,  but  he  rarely  looked  up 
without  finding  her  eyes  resting  upon  him  with  wistful 
interest. 

"At  least,"  she  said  once,  "I  must  tee  that  you  have 
i  good  breakfast.  The  kindest  thing  you  can  do  this 
morning  is  to  be  hungry.  Please  be  hungry  if  you 
oan." 

The  consciousness  that  she  was  caring  for  him  was  a 
wonderful  and  touching  thing  to  him.  The  little  house- 
wifely acts  with  which  most  men  are  familiar  were 
bewilderingly  new  to  him.  He  had  never  been  on 
sufficiently  intimate  social  terms  with  women  to  receive 
many  of  these  pretty  services  at  their  hands.  His  un- 
sophisticated reverence  for  everything  feminine  had 
worked  against  him,  with  the  reserve  which  was  one  of 
its  results.  It  had  been  his  habit  to  feel  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  he  should  be  singled  out  for  the  bestowal 
of  favors,  and  he  had  perhaps  ignored  many  through 
the  sheer  ignorance  of  simple  and  somewhat  exagger- 
ated humility. 

To  find  himself  sitting  at  the  table  alone  with  Bertha, 
in  her  new  mood, —  Bertha  quiet  and  beautiful, —  was  a 
moving  experience  to  him.  It  was  as  if  they  two  must 
have  sat  there  every  day  for  years,,  and  had  the  pros- 
pect of  sitting  so  together  indefinitely.  It  was  the  very 
simplicity  and  naturalness  of  it  all  which  stirred  him 
most.  Her  old  vivid  gayety  was  missing ;  she  did  not 
laugh  onae,  but  her  smile  was  very  sweet.  They  talked 
principally  of  the  children,  and  of  the  common  things 
about  them  ,  but  there  was  never  a  word  which  did  not 
seem  a  thing  to  be  cherished  and  remembered.  After 
a  while  the  children  were  brought  down,  and  she  took 
Meg  upon  her  knee,  and  Jack  leaned  against  her  while 
she  told  Tredennis  what  they  had  been  doing,  and  the 
sun  creeping  through  the  vines  touched  her  hair  and  the 
child's  and  made  a  picture  of  them.  When  she  went 
upgtairs  she  took  Meg  with  her,  holding  her  little  hand 


THBOUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  189 

and  talking  to  her  in  pretty  maternal  fashion  ;  and,  after 
the  two  had  vanished,  Tredennis  found  it  necessary  to 
pull  himself  together  with  a  strong  effort,  that  he  might 
prove  himself  equal  to  the  conversational  demands  mada 
upon  him  by  Master  Jack,  who  had  remained  behind 

"  T  will  go  and  see  Janey  again,"  she  had  said.  "  Aud 
then,  perhaps,  you  will  pay  her  a  visit." 

When  he  went  up,  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  he 
found  his  small  favorite  touchingly  glad  to  see  him. 
The  fever  from  which  she  had  been  suffering  for  several 
days  had  left  her  languid  and  perishable-looking,  but 
she  roused  wonderfully  at  the  sight  of  him,  and  when 
he  seated  himself  at  her  bedside  regarded  him  with 
adoring  admiration,  finally  expressing  her  innocent  con- 
viction that  he  had  grown  very  much  since  their  last 
meeting. 

"But  it  doesn't  matter,"  she  hastened  to  assure  him, 
"because  I  don't  mind  it,  and  mamma  doesn't,  either." 

When,  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  Doctor  Went- 
worth  arrived,  he  discovered  him  still  sitting  by  the 
bedside,  only  Janey  had  crept  close  to  him  and  fallen 
asleep,  clasping  both  her  small  hands  about  his  large 
one,  and  laying  her  face  upon  his  palm. 

"What !"  said  the  doctor.  "Can  you  do  that  sort  oi 
thing?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Tredennis,  slowly.  "I 
never  did  it  before." 

He  looked  down  at  the  small,  frail  creature,  and  the 
color  showed  itself  under  his  bronzed  skin. 

"  I  think  she's  rather  fond  of  me  —  or  something,"  he 
added  with  naivete,  "and  I  like  it." 

"  She  likes  it,  that's  evident,"  paid  the  doctor. 

He  turned  away  to  have  an  interview  with  Bertha, 
whom  he  took  to  the  window  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
room,  and  after  it  was  over  they  came  back  together. 

"  She  is  not  so  ill  as  she  was  yesterday,"  he  said ; 
''and  she  was  not  so  ill  then  as  you  thought  her."  Ho 
tamed  and  looked  at  Bertha  herself.  "  She  doepc't  need 


190  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

as  much  care  now  as  you  do,"  he  said,  "that's  mj 
impressioD.  What  have  you  been  doing  with  your- 
self?" 

"  Taking  care  of  her,'1  she  answered,  "since  she  began 
to  complain  of  not  feeling  well." 

He  was  a  bluff,  kindly  fellow,  with  a  bluff,  kindly 
way,  and  he  shook  a  big  forefinger  at  her. 

"  You  have  been  carrying  her  up  and  down  in  your 
arms,"  he  said.  "Don't  deny  it." 

"No,"  she  answered,  "I  won't  deny  it." 

"Of  course,"  he  said.  "I  know  you  —  carrying  her 
up  and  down  in  your  arms,  and  singing  to  her  and 
telling  her  stories,  and  holding  her  on  your  knee  when 
you  weren't  doing  anything  worse.  You'd  do  it  if  she 
were  three  times  the  size." 

She  blushed  guiltily,  and  looked  at  Janey. 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  he  said.  "You  women  will  drive 
me  mad  !  Don't  let  me  hear  any  more  about  fashionable 
mothers  who  kill  their  children  !  I  find  my  difficulty  in 
fashionable  children  who  kill  their  mothers,  and  in 
little  simpletons  who  break  down  under  the  sheer  weight 
of  their  maternal  nonsense.  Who  was  it  who  nearly 
died  of  the  measles?" 

"But  —  but,"  she  faltered,  deprecatingly,  "I  don't 
think  I  ever  had  the  measles." 

"They  weren't  your  measles,"  he  said,  with  amiable 
sternness.  "  They  were  Jack's,  and  Janey's,  and  Meg's, 
and  so  much  the  worse." 

"But,"  she  interposed,  with  a  very  pretty  eagerness, 
w  they  got  through  them  beautifully,  and  there  wasn't  a 
cold  among  them." 

"There  wouldn't  have  been  a  cold  among  them  if 
you'd  let  a  couple  of  sensible  nurses  take  care  of  them. 
Do  you  suppose  I'm  not  equal  to  bringing  three  children 
through  the  measles?  It's  all  nonsense,  and  sentiment, 
and  self-indulgence.  You  like  to  do  it,  and  you  do  it, 
and,  as  a  natural  consequence,  you  iie  of  somebody 
els«'s  measles  —  or  come  as  near  it  as  possible." 


THROUGH  ONE  ADMIMSTRATION.        191 

She  blushed  as  guiltily  as  before,  and  looked  at  Janej 
again. 

"I  think  she  is  very  much  better,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "she  is  better,  and  I  want  to 
see  you  better.  Who  is  going  to  help  you  to  take  care 
of  her?" 

"I  came  to  try  to  do  that,"  said  Tredennis. 

Bertha  turned  to  look  at  him. 

"You?"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh,  no!  You  are  very 
good ;  but  now  the  worst  is  over,  I  couldn't "  — 

"  Should  I  be  in  the  way  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  drew  back  a  little.  For  a  moment  she  had 
changed  again,  and  returned  to  the  ordinary  conven- 
tional atmosphere. 

"No,"  she  said,  "you  know  that  you  would  not  be 
in  the  way,  but  I  should  scarcely  be  likely  to  encroach 
upon  your  time  in  such  a  manner." 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"  He  is  exactly  what  you  need,"  he  said.  "  And  he 
would  be  of  more  use  to  you  than  a  dozen  nurses.  He 
won't  stand  any  of  your  maternal  weakness,  and  he  will 
see  that  my  orders  are  carried  out.  He'll  domineer  over 
you,  and  you'll  be  afraid  of  him.  You  had  better  let 
him  stay.  But  you  must  settle  it  between  you  after  I 
am  gone." 

Bertha  went  downstairs  with  him  to  receive  a  few 
final  directions,  and  when  she  returned  Tredennis  had 
gently  released  himself  from  Janey,  and  had  gone  to  the 
window,  where  he  stood  evidently  awaiting  her. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  with  his  disproportionately 
stern  air,  when  she  joined  him,  —  "  do  you  know  why  I 
came  here  ?  " 

"You  came,"  she  answered,  "because  I  alarmed  you 
unnecessarily,  and  it  seemed  that  some  one  must  come, 
and  you  were  kind  enough  to  assume  the  responsibility." 

"I  came  because  there  was  no  one  else,"  he  began. 

She  stopped  him  with  a  question  she  had  not  asked 
before,  and  he  felt  that  she  asked  it  inadvertently. 

"  Where  was  Laurence  Arbuthnot  ?  "  she  said. 


192  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

*  That  is  true,"  he  replied,  grimly.     "Laurence  AT 
huthnot  would  have  been  better." 

wNo,"  she  said,  "he  would  not  have  been  better." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  curious  mixture  of  ques- 
tioning and  defiance  in  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  know  why  it  is  that  I  always  manage  to 
make  you  angry,"  she  said ;  "  I  must  be  very  stupid.  I 
always  know  you  will  be  angry  before  you  have  done 
with  me.  When  we  were  downstairs  "  — 

"  When  we  were  downstairs,"  he  put  in,  hotly,  "we 
were  two  honest  human  beings,  without  any  barriers  of 
conventional  pretence  between  us,  and  you  allowed  me 
to  think  you  meant  to  take  what  I  had  to  offer,  and 
then,  suddenly,  all  is  changed,  and  the  barrier  is  be- 
tween us  again,  because  you  choose  to  place  it  there, 
and  profess  that  you  must  regard  me,  in  your  pretty, 
civil  way,  as  a  creature  to  be  considered  and  treated 
with  form  and  ceremony." 

"  Thank  you  for  calling  it  a  pretty  way,"  she  said. 

And  yet  there  was  a  tone  in  her  low  voice  which 
softened  his  wrath  somehow,  —  a  rather  helpless  tone, 
which  suggested  that  she  had  said  the  words  only  be- 
cause she  had  no  other  resource,  and  still  must  utter 
her  faint  protest. 

"It  is  for  me,"  he  went  on,  "to  come  to  you  with  a 
civil  pretence  instead  of  an  honest  intention  ?  I  am  not 
sufficiently  used  to  conventionalities  to  make  myself 
bearable.  I  am  always  blundering  and  stumbling.  No 
one  can  feel  that  more  bitterly  than  I  do ;  but  you  have 
no  right  to  ignore  my  claim  to  do  what  I  can  when  I 
might  be  of  use.  I  might  be  of  use,  because  the  child 
is  fond  of  me,  and  in  my  awkward  fashion  I  can  quiet 
and  amuse  her  as  you  say  no  one  but  yourself  can." 

"Will  you  tell  me?"  she  asked,  frigidly,  "  what  right 
I  have  to  permit  you  to  make  of  yourself  a — a  nurse- 
maid to  my  child?" 

"Call  it  what  you  like,"  he  answered.  "Speak  of 
it  as  you  like.  What  right  does  it  need?  I  cam* 
because" — 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

His  recollection  of  her  desolateness  checked  him.  It 
not  for  him  to  remind  her  again  by  his  recklessness 
of  speech  that  her  husband  had  not  felt  it  necessary  to 
provide  against  contingencies.  But  she  filled  up  th« 
sentence. 

"Yes,  you  are  right,"  she  said.  "As  you  said  before, 
there  was  no  one  else — no  one." 

"It  chanced  to  be  so,"  he  said;  "and  why  should  I 
not  be  allowed  to  fill  up  the  breach  for  the  time  being?" 

"Because  it  is  almost  absurd,"  she  said,  inconse- 
quently.  "Don't  you  see  that?" 

"No,"  he  answered,  obstinately. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  rested  upon  each  other. 

"You  don't  care?"  she  said. 

"No." 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't,"  she  said.  "You  never  care 
for  anything.  That  is  what  I  like  in  you — and  dread." 

"Dread?"  he  said ;  and  in  the  instant  he  saw  that  she 
had  changed  again.  Her  cheeks  had  flushed,  and  there 
was  upon  her  lips  a  smile,  half-bitter,  half-sweet. 

"I  knew  you  would  not  go,"  she  said,  "as  well  as  I 
knew  that  it  was  only  civil  in  me  to  suggest  that 
you  should.  You  are  generous  enough  to  care  for  me 
in  a  way  I  am  not  quite  used  to  —  and  you  always  have 
your  own  way.  Have  it  now ;  have  it  as  long  as  you 
are  here.  Until  you  go  away  I  shall  do  everything  you 
tell  me  to  do,  and  never  once  oppose  you  again ;  and 
— perhaps  I  shall  enjoy  the  novelty." 

There  was  a  chair  near  her,  and  she  put  her  hand 
against  it  as  if  to  steady  herself,  and  the  color  in  her 
face  died  out  as  quickly  as  it  had  risen. 

"I  did  not  want  you  to  go,"  she  said. 

"You  did  not  want  me  to  go?" 

"No,"  she  answered,  in  a  manner  more  baffling  than 
all  the  rest.  "More  than  anything  in  the  world  I 
wanted  you  to  stay.  There,  Janey  is  awakening ! " 

And  she  went  to  the  bed  and  kneeled  down  beside 
it,  and  drew  the  child  into  her  arms  against  h.er  bosom, 


J94  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FROM  that  clay  until  they  separated  there  waa  nc 
change  in  her.  It  was  scarcely  two  weeks  before  their 
paths  diverged  again ;  but,  in  looking  back  upon  it 
afterward,  it  always  seemed  to  Tredennis  that  some 
vaguely  extending  length  of  time  must  have  elapsed 
between  the  night  when  he  dismounted  at  the  gate  in 
the  moonlight,  and  the  morning  when  he  turned  to  look 
his  last  at  Bertha,  standing  in  the  sun.  Each  morning 
when  she  gave  him  his  breakfast  in  the  old-fashioned 
room,  and  he  watched  her  as  she  moved  about,  or 
poured  out  his  coffee,  or  talked  to  Meg  or  Jack,  who 
breakfasted  with  them ;  each  afternoon  when  Janey  was 
brought  down  to  lie  on  the  sofa,  and  she  sat  beside  her 
singing  pretty,  foolish  songs  to  her,  and  telling  hci 
stories ;  each  evening  when  the  child  fell  asleep  in 
her  arms,  as  she  sang ;  each  brief  hour,  later  on,  when 
the  air  had  cooled,  and  she  went  out  to  sit  on  the  porch, 
or  walk  under  the  trees,  — seemed  an  experience  of  in- 
definite length,  not  to  be  marked  by  hours,  nor  by  sun- 
rise and  sunset,  but  by  emotions.  Her  gentle  interest 
in  his  comfort  continued  just  what  it  had  been  the  first 
day  he  had  been  so  moved  by  it,  and  his  care  for  her  she 
accepted  with  a  gratitude  which  might  have  been  sweet 
to  any  man.  Having  long  since  established  his  rank  in 
Janey's  affections  it  was  easy  for  him  to  mitke  himself 
useful,  in  his  masculine  fashion.  During  her  convales- 
cence his  strong  arms  became  the  child's  favorite  resting- 
place  ;  when  she  was  tired  of  her  couch  he  could  carry 
her  up  and  down  the  room  without  wearying ;  she  liked 
his  long,  steady  strides,  and  the  sound  of  his  deep  voice, 
and  his  unconscious  air  of  command  disposed  of  many 
a  difficulty.  When  Bertha  herself  was  the  nurse  he 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  195 

watched  her  faithfully,  and  when  he  saw  in  her  any 
signs  of  fatigue  he  took  her  place  at  once,  and  from 
the  first  she  made  no  protest  against  his  quietly  per- 
sistent determination  to  lighten  her  burdens.  Perhaps, 
through  the  fact  that  they  were  so  lightened,  or  through 
her  relief  from  her  previous  anxiety,  she  seemed  to  grow 
stronger  as  the  child  did.  Her  color  became  brighter 
and  steadier,  and  her  look  of  lassitude  and  weariness 
left  her.  One  morning,  having  been  beguiled  out  of 
doors  by  Jack  and  Meg,  Tredennis  heard  her  laugh  in 
a  tone  that  made  him  rise  from  his  chair  by  Janey,  and 
go  to  the  open  window. 

He  reached  it  just  in  time  to  see  her  run  like  a  deer 
across  the  sun-dappled  grass,  after  a  bright  ball  Meg  had 
thrown  to  her,  with  an  infantile  aimlessness  which  pre- 
cluded all  possibility  of  its  being  caught.  She  made  a 
graceful  dart  at  it,  picked  it  up,  and  came  back  under 
the  trees,  tossing  it  in  the  air,  and  catching  it  again  with 
a  deft  turn  of  hand  and  wrist.  She  was  flushed  with 
the  exercise,  and,  for  the  moment,  almost  radiant;  she 
held  her  dress  closely  about  her  figure,  her  face  was 
upturned  and  her  eyes  were  uplifted,  and  she  was  aa 
unconscious  as  Meg  herself. 

When  she  saw  him  she  threw  the  ball  to  the  chil- 
dren, and  came  forward  to  the  window. 

"  Does  Janey  want  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No.     She  is  asleep." 

"  Do  you  want  me  ?  " 

w  I  want  to  see  you  go  on  with  your  game." 

"  It  is  not  my  game,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "  It  is 
Jack's  and  Meg's.  Suppose  you  come  and  join  them. 
It  will  fill  them  with  rapture,  and  I  shall  like  to  look 
on/' 

When  he  came  out  she  sat  down  under  a  tree  leaning 
against  the  trunk,  and  watched  him,  her  eyes  following 
the  swift  flight  of  the  ball  high  into  the  blue  above 
them,  as  he  flung  it  upward  among  the  delighted  clamor 
of  the  children,  lie  had  always  excelled  in  sports  and 


196  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

feats  of  strength,  and  in  this  simple  feat  of  throwing 
the  ball  his  physical  force  and  grace  displayed  tnem- 
selves  to  decided  advantage.  The  ball  went  up,  as  an 
arrow  flies  from  the  bow,  hurtling  through  the  air,  until 
it  was  little  more  than  a  black  speck  to  the  eye.  When 
it  came  back  to  earth  he  picked  it  up  and  tlirew  it 
again,  and  each  time  it  seemed  to  reach  a  greater  height 
than  the  last. 

<:  That  is  very  fine,"  she  said.    "  I  like  to  see  you  do  it." 

*  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  pausing. 

"  I  like  the  force  you  put  into  it,"  she  answered.  "  It 
scarcely  seems  like  play." 

tc  I  did  not  know  that,"  he  said ;  w  but  I  am  afraid  I 
am  always  in  earnest.  That  is  my  misfortune." 

"  It  is  a  great  misfortune,"  she  said.  "  Don't  be  in 
earnest,"  with  a  gesture  as  if  she  would  sweep  the  sug- 
gestion away  with  her  hand.  "  Go  on  with  your  game. 
Let  us  be  like  children,  and  play.  Our  holiday  will  be 
over  soon  enough,  and  we  shall  have  to  return  to  Wash- 
ington and  effete  civilization." 

"  Is  it  a  holiday  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Now  that  Janey  is  getting 
better  I  am  deliberately  taking  a  holiday.  Nothing 
rests  me  so  much  as  forgetting  things." 

w  Are  you  forgetting  things  ?  "  he  asked. 

w  Yes,"  she  replied,  looking  away ;  "  everything." 

Then  the  children  demanded  his  attention,  and  he 
returned  to  his  ball-throwing. 

If  she  was  taking  a  holiday  with  deliberate  intention 
she  did  it  well.  In  a  few  days  Janey  was  well  enough 
to  be  carried  out  and  laid  on  one  of  the  two  hammocks 
swung  beneath  the  trees,  and  then  far  the  greater  part 
of  the  day  was  spent  in  the  open  air.  To  Tredennis  it 
seemed  that  Bertha  made  the  most  of  every  hour, 
whether  she  swung  in  her  hammock  with  her  face  up- 
turned to  the  trees,  or  sat  reading,  or  talking  as  she 
worked  with  the  decorous  little  basket,  at  which  she 
had  jeered,  upon  her  knee. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  197 

He  was  often  reminded  in  these  days  of  what  the 
professor  had  said  of  her  tenderness  for  her  children. 
It  revealed  itself  in  a  hundred  trifling  ways,  in  her 
touch,  in  her  voice,  in  her  almost  unconscious  habit  of 
caring  for  them,  and,  more  than  all,  in  a  certain  pretty, 
inconvenient  fashion  they  had  of  getting  close  to  her, 
and  clinging  about  her,  at  all  sorts  of  inopportune  mo- 
ments. Once  when  she  had  run  to  comfort  Meg  who 
had  fallen  down,  and  had  come  back  to  the  hammock, 
carrying  her  in  her  arms,  he  was  betrayed  into  speak- 
ing. 

"I  did  not  think," —  he  began,  and  then  he  checked 
himself  guiltily. 

"  You  did  not  think  ?  "  she  repeated. 

He  began  to  recognize  his  indiscretion. 

w  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  M I  was  going  to  make 
a  blunder." 

She  sat  down  in  the  hammock,  with  the  child  in  her 
arms. 

"  You  were  going  to  say  that  you  did  not  think  I 
"ared  so  much  for  my  children,"  she  said,  gently.  "  Do 
you  suppose  I  did  not  know  that  ?  Well ,  perhaps  it  was 
not  a  blunder.  Perhaps  it  is  only  one  of  my  pretences." 

"  Don't  speak  like  that,"  he  implored. 

The  next  instant  he  saw  that  tears  had  risen  in  her 
eyes. 

«  No,"  she  said.  « I  will  not.  Why  should  I  ?  It  is 
not  true.  I  love  them  very  much.  However  bad  you 
are,  I  think  you  must  love  your  children.  Of  course, 
my  saying  that  1  bved  them  might  go  for  nothing ;  but 
don't  you  see,"  she  went  on  with  a  pathetic  thrill  in 
her  voice,  "that  they  love  me  f  They  would  not  love 
me,  if  I  did  not  care  for  them." 

"  I  know  that,"  he  returned  remorsefully.  "  It  was 
only  one  of  my  blunders,  as  I  said.  But  you  have  so 
bewildered  me  sometimes.  When  I  first  returned  I 
could  not  understand  you.  It  was  as  if  I  found  myself 
face  to  face  with  a  creature  I  had  never  seen  before." 


198  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"You  did,"  she  said.  "That  was  it.  Perhaps  1 
never  was  the  creature  you  fancied  me." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  he  replied.  "  Since  I  have  been 
hnre  I  have  seen  you  as  I  used  to  dream  of  you,  when 
I  sat  by  the  fire  in  my  quarters  in  the  long  winter 
oights." 

"Did  you  ever  think  of  me  like  that?"  she  said 
alowly,  and  with  surprise  in  her  face. 

He  had  not  thought  of  what  he  was  revealing,  and  he 
did  not  think  of  it  now. 

"I  never  forgot  you,"  he  said.     " Never." 

"It  seems  very  strange — to  hear  that  now,"  she  said. 
"  I  never  dreamed  of  your  thinking  of  me  —  afterwards. 
You  seemed  to  take  so  little  notice  of  me." 

"  It  is  my  good  fortune,"  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  bit- 
terness, "that  I  never  seem  to  take  notice  of  anything." 

"I  suppose,"  she  went  on,  "that  you  remembered  me 
because  you  were  lonely  at  first,  and  there  was  no  one 
else  to  think  of." 

"  Perhaps  that  was  it,"  he  answered. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "it  was  natural  —  only  I  never 
thought "  — 

"  It  was  as  natural  that  you  should  forget  as  that  I 
should  remember,"  he  said. 

Her  face  had  been  slightly  averted,  and  she  turned  it 
toward  him. 

"  But  I  did  not  forget,"  she  said. 

"You  did  not?" 

"No.  At  first,  it  is  true,  I  scarcely  seemed  to  have 
time  for  anything,  but  to  be  happy  and  enjoy  the  days, 
as  they  went  by.  Oh !  what  bright  days  they  were, 
fl-nd  how  far  away  they  seem  !  Perhaps,  if  I  had  known 
that  they  would  come  to  an  end  really,  I  might  have 
tried  to  make  them  pass  more  slowly." 

"They  went  slowly  for  me,"  he  said.      "I  was 
when  they  were  over." 

"  Were  you  so  very  lonely !  "  she  asked. 

"Yes," 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  193 

"  Would  it  have  pleased  you,  if  I  had  written  to  you 
rfhen  papa  did?" 

"  Did  you  ever  think  of  doing  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  expression  dawning  in  her  eyes  was  a  curioua 
one  —  there  was  a  suggestion  of  dread  in  it. 

"Once, "she  replied.  "I  began  a  letter  to  you.  It 
was  on  a  dull  day,  when  I  was  restless  and  unhappy  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life ;  and  suddenly  I  thought  of 
you,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  should  like  to  speak  to  you 
again,  —  and  I  began  the  letter." 

ctBut  you  did  not  finish  it." 

"No.  I  only  wrote  a  few  lines,  and  then  stopped. 
I  said  to  myself  that  it  was  not  likely  that  you  had 
remembered  me  in  the  way  I  had  remembered  you,  so 
I  laid  my  letter  aside.  I  saw  it  only  a  few  days  ago 
among  some  old  papers  in  my  trunk." 

"You  have  it  yet?" 

"I  did  not  know  that  I  had  it,  until  I  saw  it  the  other 
day.  It  seems  strange  that  it  should  have  lain  hidden 
all  these  years,  and  then  have  come  to  light.  I  laid  it 
away  thinking  I  might  find  courage  to  finish  it  some- 
time. There  are  only  a  few  lines,  but  they  prove 
that  my  memory  was  not  so  bad  as  you  thought." 

He  had  been  lying  on  the  grass  a  few  feet  away  from 
her.  As  she  talked  he  had  looked  not  at  her,  but  at 
the  bits  of  blue  sky  showing  through  the  interlacing 
greenness  of  the  trees  above  him.  Now  he  suddenly 
half  rose  and  leaned  upon  his  elbow. 

"Will  you  give  it  to  me?"  he  said. 

"Do  you  want  it?   It  is  only  a  yellow  scrap  of  paper." 

"I  think  it  belongs  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  have  a  right 
to  it." 

She  got  up  without  a  word  and  went  toward  the 
house,  leading  Meg  by  the  hand.  Tredennis  watched 
her  retreating  figure  in  silence  until  she  went  in  at  the 
door.  His  face  set,  and  his  lips  pressed  together,  then 
he  flung  himself  backward  and  lay  at  full  length  again, 
seeing  only  the  bright  green  of  the  leaves  and  the  bits 


200  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTR4TION. 

ot  intense  blue  between.  It  was  well  that  he  was  alone 
IL.3  sense  of  impotent  anguish  was  more  than  he  had 
strength  to  bear,  and  it  wrung  a  cry  from  him. 

"My  God  !"  he  said  ;  "my  God  f'  He  was  still  lying 
so  when  Bertha  returned.  She  had  not  been  away  many 
minutes,  and  she  came  back  alone  with  the  unfinished 
letter  in  her  hand. 

lie  took  it  from  her  without  comment,  and  looked  at 
it.  The  faint  odor  of  heliotrope  he  knew  so  well 
floated  up  to  him  as  he  bent  over  the  paper.  As  she 
had  said,  there  were  only  a  few  lines,  and  she  had  evi- 
dently been  dissatisfied  with  them,  and  irresolute  about 
them,  for  several  words  were  erased  as  if  with  girlish 
impatience.  At  the  head  of  the  page  was  written  first : 
Dear  Philip,  and  then  Dear  Captain  Tredennis,  and 
there  were  two  or  three  different  opening  sentences. 
As  he  read  each  one  through  the  erasures,  he  thought 
he  understood  the  innocent,  unconscious  appeal  in  it, 
and  he  seemed  to  see  the  girl-face  bending  above  it, 
changing  from  eagerness  to  uncertainty,  and  from  un- 
certainty to  the  timidity  which  had  made  her  despair. 

"  I  wish  you  had  finished  it,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  I  had,"  she  answered,  and  then  she  added 
vaguely,  "  if  it  would  have  pleased  you." 

He  folded  it,  and  put  it  in  his  breast-pocket  and  laid 
down  once  more,  and  it  was  not  referred  to  again. 

It  seemed  to  Tredennis,  at  least,  that  there  never  be- 
fore had  been  such  a  day  as  the  one  which  followed. 
After  a  night  of  rain  the  intense  heat  subsided,  leaving 
freshness  of  verdure,  skies  of  the  deepest,  clearest  blue, 
and  a  balmy,  luxurious  sweetness  in  the  air,  deliciously 
pungent  with  the  odors  of  cedar  and  pine. 

When  he  came  down  in  the  morning,  and  entered  the 
breakfast  room,  he  found  it  empty.  Tne  sunlight 
streamed  through  the  lattice-work  of  vines,  and  the 
cloth  was  laid,  with  the  pretty  blue  cups  and  saucers  io 
waiting;  but  Bertha  was  not  there,  and,  fancying  she 
had  risen  later  than  usual,  he  went  out  into  the  open  air. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  201 

The  next  morning  he  was  to  return  to  Washington. 
There  was  no  absolute  need  of  his  remaining  longer. 
The  child  had  so  far  recovered  that,  at  the  doctor's  sug- 
gestion, in  a  few  days  she  was  to  be  removed  to  the  sea- 
side. Nevertheless,  it  had  cost  him  a  struggle  to  arrive 
at  his  decision,  and  it  had  required  resolution  to  announce 
it  to  Bertha.  It  would  have  been  far  easier  to  let  the  days 
slip  by  as  they  would,  and  when  he  told  her  of  his  in- 
tended departure,  and  she  received  the  news  with  little 
more  than  a  few  words  of  regret  at  it,  and  gratitude  for 
the  services  he  had  rendered,  he  felt  it  rather  hard  to 
bear. 

"  If  it  had  been  Arbuthnot,"  he  thought,  "  she  would 
not  have  borne  it  so  calmly."  And  then  he  reproached 
himself  bitterly  for  his  inconsistency. 

"  Did  I  come  here  to  make  her  regret  me,  when  I  left 
her  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  a  fool  a  man  can  make  of  him- 
self, if  he  gives  way  to  his  folly  ! " 

As  he  descended  the  steps  of  the  porch  he  saw  her, 
and  he  had  scarcely  caught  sight  of  her  before  she 
turned  and  came  toward  him.  He  recognized  at  once 
that  she  had  made  a  change  in  her  dress ;  that  it  was  no 
longer  such  as  she  had  worn  while  in  attendance  upon 
Janey,  and  that  it  had  a  delicate  holiday  air  about  it, 
notwithstanding  its  simplicity. 

"  Was  there  ever  such  a  day  before  ?  "  she  said,  as  she 
came  to  him. 

"  I  thought  not,  as  I  looked  out  of  my  window,"  he  re- 
plied. 

"It  is  youi  last/'  she  said,  "and  I  should  Tike  you 
to  remember  it  as  being  pleasanter  than  all  the  rest ; 
though,"  she  added,  thoughtfully,  "the  rest  have  been 
pleasant." 

Then  she  looked  up  at  him,  with  a  smile. 

"  Do  you  see  my  gala  attire  ?  "  she  said.  "  It  was  Janey 
who  suggested  it.  She  thinks  I  have  not  been  doing 
myself  justice  since  you  have  been  here." 

''That,"  he  said,  regarding  her  seriously,  "is  a  very 


202  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

beautiful  gown,  but "  —  with  an  entirely  respectful  sens* 
of  inadequacy  of  expression  —  "  you  always  wear  beau- 
tiful gowns,  I  believe." 

"  Did  Mr.  Arbuthnot  tell  you  so  ?  "  she  said,  w  or  was 
it  Miss  Jessup  ?  " 

They  breakfasted  together  in  the  sunny  room,  and 
after  breakfast  they  rambled  out  together.  It  was  she 
who  led,  and  he  who  followed,  with  a  curious,  dreamy 
pleasure  in  all  he  did,  and  in  every  beauty  around  him, 
even  in  the  unreal  passiveness  of  his  very  mood  itself. 
He  had  never  been  so  keenly  conscious  of  things  before  ; 
everything  impressed  itself  upon  him, —  the  blue  of  the 
sky,  the  indolent  sway  of  the  leaves,  the  warmth  of  the 
air,  and  the  sweet  odors  in  it,  the  broken  song  of  the 
birds,  the  very  sound  of  Bertha's  light  tread  as  they 
walked. 

WI  am  going  to  give  the  day  to  you,"  she  had  said. 
w  And  you  shall  see  the  children's  favorite  camping-ground 
on  the  hill.  Before  Janey  was  ill  we  used  to  go  there 
almost  every  day.'*^- 

Behind  the  house  was  a  wood-covered  hill,  and  half- 
way up  was  the  favored  spot.  It  was  a  sort  of  bower 
formed  by  the  clambering  of  a  great  vine  from  one  tree 
to  another,  making  a  canopy,  under  which,  through  a 
break  in  the  trees,  could  be  seen  the  most  perfect  view 
of  the  country  below,  and  the  bend  of  the  river.  The 
ground  was  carpeted  with  moss,  and  there  was  a  moss- 
covered  rock  to  lean  against,  which  was  still  ornamented 
with  the  acorn  cups  and  saucers  with  which  the  children 
had  entertained  their  family  of  dolls  on  their  last  visit. 

*'  ^See,"  said  Bertha,  taking  one  of  them  up  when  she 
sat  down.  "When  we  were  here  last  we  had  a  tea- 
party,  and  it  was  poor  Janey's  headache  which  brought 
it  to  a  close.  At  the  height  of  the  festivities  she  laid 
down  her  best  doll,  and  came  to  me  to  cry,  and  we  were 
obliged  to  carry  her  home." 

"Pocr  child  1 "  said  Tredennis.     He  saw  only  her  fac« 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  203 

upturned  under  the  shadow  of  the  white  hat,  —  a  pretty 
hat.  with  small,  soft,  downy  plumes  upon  it,  and  a  gen- 
eral air  of  belonging  to  the  great  world. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Bertha,  "  or  you  may  lie  down,  if 
you.  like,  and  look  at  the  river,  and  not  speak  to  me  at 
all."  He  lay  down,  stretching  his  great  length  upon 
the  soft  moss,  and  clasping  his  hands  beneath  his  head. 
Bertha  clasped  her  hands  about  her  knee  and  leaned 
slightly  forward,  looking  at  the  view  as  if  she  had  never 
seen  it  before. 

"Is  this  a  dream?"  Tredennis  said,  languidly,  at  last. 
"I  think  it  must  be." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  that  is  why  the  air  is  so  warm 
and  fragrant,  and  the  sky  so  blue,  and  the  scent  of  the 
pinos  so  delicious.  It  is  all  different  when  one  is  awake. 
Th'*t  is  why  I  am  making  the  most  of  every  second,  and 
am  determined  to  enjoy  it  to  the  very  utmost." 

"That  is  what  I  am  doing,"  he  said. 

"It  is  not  a  good  plan,  as  a  rule,"  she  began,  and 
checked  herself.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  I  won't  say  that. 
It  is  a  worldly  and  Washingtonian  sentiment.  I  will 
save  it  until  next  winter." 

"Don't  save  it  at  all,"  he  said;  "it  is  an  unnatural 
sentiment.  It  isn't  true,  and  you  do  not  really  believe 
it." 

"  It  is  safer,"  she  said. 

He  lay  still  a  moment,  looking  down  the  hillside 
through  the  trees  at  the  broad  sweep  of  the  river  bend 
and  the  purple  hills  beyond. 

"  Bertha,"  he  said,  at  last,  ?f  sometimes  I  hate  the 
man  who  has  taught  you  all  this." 

She  plucked  at  the  red-tipped  moss  at  her  side  for  a 
second  or  so  before  she  replied ;  she  showed  no  surprise 
or  hurry  when  she  spoke. 

tt  Laurence  Arbuthnot ! "  she  said.  "  Sometimes  I 
hate  him,  too  ;  but  it  is  only  for  a  moment,  —  when  be 
tells  me  the  simple,  deadly  truth,  and  I  know  it  rs  the 
Iruth,  and  wish  I  did  not." 


201:  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

She  threw  the  little  handful  of  moss  down  the  Lill  aa 
if  she  threw  something  away  with  it. 

"But  this  is  not  being  happy,"  she  said.  "Let  us  be 
happy.  I  will  be  happy.  Janey  is  better,  and  all  my 
anxiety  is  over,  and  it  is  such  a  lovely  day,  and  I  have 
put  on  my  favorite  gown  to  celebrate  it  in.  Look  at 
the  color  of  the  hills  over  there  —  listen  to  those  doves 
in  the  pines.  How  warm  and  soft  the  wind  is,  and  how 
tae  scent  of  my  carnations  fills  the  air!  Ah,  what  a 
bright  world  it  is,  after  all  I  " 

She  broke  into  singing  softly,  and  half  under  breath, 
a  snatch  of  a  gay  little  song.  Tredennis  had  never 
heard  her  sing  it  before,  and  thought  it  wonderfully 
sweet.  But  she  sang  no  more  than  a  line  or  two,  and 
then  turned  to  him,  with  a  smile  in  her  eyes. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "it  is  your  turn.  Talk  to  me. 
Tell  me  about  your  life  in  the  West ;  tell  me  all  you 
did  the  first  year,  and  begin  —  begin  just  where  you  left 
me  the  night  you  bade  me  good-by  at  the  carriage-door  " 

"I  am  afraid  it  would  not  be  a  very  interesting 
story,"  he  said. 

"It  would  interest  me,"  she  answered.  "There  are 
camp-fires  in  it,  and  scalps,  and  Indians,  and  probably 
war-paths."  And  her  voice  falling  a  little,  "I  want  to 
liscover  why  it  was  that  you  always  seemed  to  be  so 
nuch  alone,  and  sat  and  thought  in  that  dreary  way 
by  the  fire  in  your  quarters.  It  seems  to  me  that  you 
have  been  a  great  deal  alone." 

"I  have  been  a  great  deal  alone,"  he  said;  "that  is 
true." 

"It  must  have  been  so  even  when  you  were  a  child," 
she  went  on.  "I  heard  you  tell  Janey  once  that  when 
you  were  her  age  you  belonged  to  no  one.  I  don't  like 
to  think  of  that.  It  touches  the  maternal  side  of  me. 
It  makes  me  think  of  Jack.  Suppose  Jack  belonged  to 
no  one ;  and  you  were  not  so  old  as  Jack.  I  wonder 
if  you  were  at  all  like  him,  and  how  you  looked.  1 
wish  there  was  a  picture  of  you  I  could  see." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  20A 

He  had  never  regarded  himself  as  an  object  likely  to 
interest  in  any  degree,  and  had  lost  many  of  the  con- 
solations and  excitements  of  the  more  personal  kind 
thereby ;  and  to  find  that  she  had  even  given  a  s}rmpa- 
thetic  thought  to  the  far-away  childhood  whose  desola- 
lateness  he  himself  had  never  quite  analyzed,  at  once 
(ouched  and  bewildered  him. 

"I  have  not  been  without  friends,"  he  said,  "but  I 
am  sure  no  one  ever  gave  much  special  thought  to  me. 
Perhaps  it  is  because  men  are  scarcely  likely  to  give 
such  thoughts  to  men,  and  I  have  not  known  women. 
My  parents  died  before  I  was  a  year  old,  and  I  don't 
think  any  one  was  ever  particularly  fond  of  me.  People 
did  not  dislike  me,  but  they  passed  me  over.  I  never 
wondered  at  it,  but  I  saw  it.  I  knew  there  was  some- 
thing a  little  wrong  with  me ;  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand what  it  was.  I  know  now :  I  was  silent,  and 
could  not  express  what  I  thought  and  felt." 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried ;  "  and  was  there  no  one  to  help 
you?" 

There  was  no  thought  of  him  as  a  full-grown  person 
in  the  exclamation ;  it  was  a  womanish  outcry  for  the 
child,  whose  desolate  childhood  seemed  for  the  moment 
to  be  an  existence  which  had  never  ended. 

"I  know  about  children,"  she  said,  "and  what  suffer- 
ing there  is  for  them  if  they  are  left  alone.  They  can 
say  so  little,  and  we  can  say  so  much.  Haven't  I  seen 
them  try  to  explain  things  when  they  were  at  a  disad- 
vantage and  overpowered  by  the  sheer  strength  of  some 
full-grown  creature?  Haven't  I  seen  them  make  their 
impotent  little  struggle  for  words  and  fail,  and  look  up 
with  their  helpless  eyes  and  see  the  uselessness  of  it, 
and  break  down  into  their  poor  little  shrieks  of  wrath 
and  grief?  The  happiest  of  them  go  tL rough  it  some- 
times, and  those  who  are  left  alone  —  Why  didn't  some 
woman  see  and  understand?  —  some  woman  ought  to 
have  seen  and  cared  for  you." 

Tredennis  found  himself  absorl  ed  in  contemplation  of 


206  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

her.  He  was  not  sure  that  there  were  not  tears  in  hea 
eyes,  and  yet  he  could  hardly  believe  it  possible. 

"That  is  all  true,"  he  said ;  "you  understand  it  bettei 
than  I  did.  I  understood  the  feeling  no  better  than  I 
understood  the  reason  for  it." 

"I  understand  it  because  I  have  children,"  she 
answered.  "  And  because  I  have  watched  them  and 
loved  them,  and  would  give  my  heart's  blood  for  them. 
To  have  children  makes  one  like  a  tiger,  at  times.  The 
passion  one  can  feel  through  the  wrongs  of  a  child  is 
something  awful.  One  can  feel  it  for  any  child  —  for 
all  children.  But  for  one's  own"  — 

She  ended  with  a  sharply  drawn  breath.  The  sudden 
uncontrollable  fierceness,  which  seemed  to  have  made 
her  in  a  second,  — in  her  soft  white  gown  and  lace,  and 
her  pretty  hat,  with  its  air  of  good  society,  —  a  small, 
wild  creature,  whom  no  law  of  man  could  touch,  affected 
him  like  an  electric  shock ;  perhaps  the  thrill  it  gave 
him  revealed  itself  in  his  look,  and  she  saw  it,  for  she 
seemed  to  become  conscious  of  herself  and  her  mood, 
with  a  start.  She  made  a  quick,  uneasy  movement  and 
effort  to  recover  herself. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  with  a  half  laugh. 
"'But  I  couldn't  help  it.  It  was" — and  she  paused  a 
second  for  reflection,  —  "  it  was  the  primeval  savage  in 
me."  And  she  turned  and  clasped  her  hands  about  her 
knee  again,  resuming  her  attitude  of  attention,  even 
while  the  folds  of  lace  on  her  bosom  were  still  stirred 
by  her  quick  breathing. 

But,  though  she  might  resuii  ».  her  attitude,  it  was  not 
BO  easy  to  resume  the  calmness  of  her  mood.  Having 
been  stirred  once,  it  was  less  difficult  to  be  stirred 
again.  When  he  began,  at  last,  to  tell  the  story  of  his 
life  on  the  frontier,  if  his  vanity  had  been  concerned  he 
would  have  felt  that  she  made  a  good  listener.  But  hih 
vanity  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  obedience  to  her 
wish.  He  made  as  plain  a  story  as  his  material  would 
allow,  and  also  made  persistent,  though  scarcely  sue- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  207 

cessful,  efforts  to  avoid  figuring  as  a  here.  He  was,  in- 
deed, rather  abashed  to  find,  on  recurring  to  facto,  that 
he  had  done  so  much  to  bring  himself  to  the  front.  He 
even  found  himself  at  last  taking  refuge  in  the  subter- 
fuge of  speaking  of  himself  in  the  third  person  as  "  ono 
of  the  party,"  when  recounting  a  specially  thrilling  ad- 
venture in  which  he  discovered  that  he  had  unblush- 
ingly  distinguished  himself.  It  was  an  exciting  story 
of  the  capture  of  some  white  women  by  the  Indians  at 
a  critical  juncture,  when  but  few  men  could  be  spared 
from  the  fort,  and  the  fact  that  the  deadly  determination 
of  "  one  of  the  party "  that  no  harm  should  befall  them 
was  not  once  referred  to  in  words,  and  only  expressed 
itself  in  daring  and  endurance,  for  which  every  one  but 
himself  was  supposed  to  be  responsible,  did  not  detract 
from  its  force.  This  "one  of  the  party,"  who  seemed 
to  have  sworn  a  silent  oath  that  he  would  neither  eat, 
nor  sleep,  nor  rest  until  he  had  accomplished  his  end 
of  rescuing  the  captives,  and  who  had  been  upon  the 
track  almost  as  soon  as  the  news  had  reached  the  fort, 
and  who  had  followed  it  night  and  day,  with  his  hastily 
gathered  and  altogether  insufficient  little  band,  and  at 
last  had  overtaken  the  captors,  and  through  sheer  cour- 
age and  desperate  valor  had  overpowered  them,  and 
brought  back  their  prisoners  unharmed, — this  "one  of 
the  party,"  silent,  and  would-be  insignificant,  was,  in 
spite  of  himself,  a  figure  to  stir  the  blood. 

"It  was  you  who  dil  that?"  she  said,  when  he  had 
finished. 

"I  was  only  one  )f  the  company,"  he  answered, 
abashed,  "and  obeyed  orders.  Of  couise  A  man  obeys 
orders." 


208  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHEN  he  tuck  her  hand  to  assist  her  to  rise  he  felt  it 
tremble  in  his  own. 

w  It  was  not  a  pleasant  story,"  he  said.  "  I  ought  not 
to  have  told  it  to  you." 

They  scarcely  spoke  at  all  as  they  descended.  He 
did  not  understand  his  own  unreasoning  happiness. 
What  reason  was  there  for  it,  after  all  ?  If  he  had  ar- 
gued the  matter,  he  was  in  the  mood  to  have  said  that 
what  he  gained  in  the  strange  sweetness  of  the  flying 
moments  could  only  hurt  himself,  and  was  enough  in  it- 
self to  repay  him  for  any  sense  of  pain  and  loss  which 
might  follow.  But  he  did  not  argue  at  all.  In  Lau- 
rence Arbuthnct's  place  he  would  scarcely  have  given 
himself  the  latitude  he  was  giving  himself  now. 

" It  is  safe  enough  for  me"  was  the  sharp-edged 
thought  which  had  cut  through  all  others  once  or  twice. 
"  It  is  safe  enough  for  me  to  be  as  happy  as  I  ma}' ." 

But  he  forgot  this  as  they  went  down  the  hill,  side  by 
side.  For  the  time  being  he  only  felt,  and  each  glance 
he  turned  upon  Bertha's  downcast  face  gave  him  cause 
to  realize,  what  intensity  his  feelings  had  reached,  and 
wakened  him  to  that  sudden  starting  of  pulse  and  heart 
which  is  almost  a  pain.  When  they  reached  the  house 
Bertha  went  in  search  of  Janey.  She  remained  with 
her  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  then  came  out  to  the 
hammock  with  her  work-basket.  The  carnations  at  her 
waist  were  crushed  a  little,  and  something  of  the  first 
freshness  of  her  holiday  air  was  gone.  She  held  a  let- 
ter in  her  hand,  which  she  had  evidently  been  reading 
She  had  not  returned  it  to  its  envelope,  and  it  was  stilJ 
half  open. 

*  It  is  from  Richard,"  she  said,  after  she  had  taken 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  209 

her  seat  in  the  hammock.  "  It  was  brought  in  from  th«s 
post-office  at  Lowville  about  an  hour  ago." 

"From  Richard?"  he  said.  "He  is  coming  home,  I 
suppose." 

"  Noy"  she  answered,  looking  down  at  the  closely 
written  sheets,  —  "  he  is  not  coming  yet.  He  was  wise 
enough  not  to  take  a  serious  view  of  Janey's  case.  He 
is  very  encouraging,  and  expresses  his  usual  confidence 
in  my  management." 

There  was  nothing  like  bitterness  in  her  voice,  and  it 
struck  him  that  he  had  never  seen  so  little  expression  of 
any  kind  in  her  face.  She  opened  the  letter  and  looked 
over  the  first  page  of  it. 

"  He  has  a  great  many  interesting  things  to  say,"  she 
went  on ;  "  and  he  is  very  enthusiastic." 

"About  what?"     Tredennis  asked.     She  looked  up. 

"About  the  Westoria  lands,"  she  answered.  "He 
finds  all  sorts  of  complications  of  good  fortune  con- 
nected with  them.  I  don't  understand  them  all,  by  any 
means.  I  am  not  good  at  business.  But  it  seems  as 
though  the  persons  who  own  the  Westoria  lands  will  be 
able  to  command  the  resources  of  the  entire  surround- 
ing country,  —  if  the  railroad  is  carried  through ;  of 
course  it  all  depends  upon  the  railroad." 

"And  the  railroad,"  suggested  Tredennis,  "depends 
upon  "  — 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  "  On  several  people, 
I  suppose.  I  wish  it  depended  on  me." 

"Why?"  said  Tredennis. 

She  smiled  slightly  and  rather  languidly. 

"  I  should  like  to  feel  that  anything  so  important  de- 
pended on  me,"  she  said.  "I  should  like  the  sense 
of  power.  I  am  very  fond  of  power." 

"  I  once  heard  it  said  that  you  had  a  great  deal  of  it," 
Tredennis  said ;  "  far  more  than  most  women." 

She  smiled  again,  a  trifle  less  languidly. 

"That  is  Laurence  Arbuthnot,"  she  observed.  "1 
always  recognize  his  remarks  when  I  hear  them.  He 


210  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

did  not  mean  a  compliment  exactly,  either,  though  it 
sounds  rather  like  one.  He  has  a  theory  that  I  affect 
people  strongly,  and  he  chooses  to  call  that  power 
But  it  is  too  trivial.  It  is  only  a  matter  of  pleasing  or 
displeasing,  and  I  am  obliged  to  exert  myself.  It  does 
not  enable  me  to  bestow  things,  and  be  a  potentate.  I 
think  that  to  be  a  potentate  might  console  one  for  a 
great  many  things,  — and  for  the  lack  of  a  great  many. 
If  you  can't  take,  it  must  distract  your  attention  to  be 
able  to  give." 

"  I  do  not  like  to  hear  you  speak  as  if  the  chief  thing 
to  be  desired  was  the  ability  to  distract  one's  self,"  Tre- 
dennis  said. 

She  paused  a  second. 

"Then,"  she  said,  "I  will  not  speak  so  now.  To-day 
I  will  do  nothing  you  do  not  like."  Then  she  added, 
"  As  it  is  your  last  day,  I  wish  to  retrieve  myself." 

"  What  have  you  to  retrieve  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Myself,"  she  answered,  "  as  I  said." 

She  spread  the  letter  upon  her  lap,  and  gave  her  at- 
tention to  it. 

"Isn't  it  rather  like  Richard,"  she  said,  "that,  when 
he  begins  to  write,  he  invariably  writes  a  letter  like 
that?  Theoretically  he  detests  correspondence,  but 
when  he  once  begins,  his  letter  always  interests  him, 
and  even  awakens  him  to  a  kind  of  enthusiasm,  so  that 
instead  of  being  brief  he  tells  one  everything.  He  has 
written  twelve  pages  here,  and  it  is  all  delightful." 

"That  is  a  wonderful  thing  to  do,"  remarked  Tre- 
dennis  ;  "but  it  does  not  surprise  me  in  Richard." 

"No,"  she  replied,  "Richard  can  always  interest  him- 
self; or,  rather,  he  does  not  interest  himself, — it  is 
that  he  is  interested  without  makiig  an  effort;  that  i& 
his  strong  point." 

She  replaced  the  letter  in  the  envelope  and  laid  it  in 
the  basket,  from  which  she  took  a  strip  of  lace-work, 
beginning  to  employ  herself  with  it  in  a  manner  more 
suggestive  of  graceful  leisure  than  of  industrious  inten- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  211 

tion.  It  seemed  to  accentuate  the  fact  that  they  had 
nothing  to  do  but  let  the  day  drift  by  in  luxurious  idle- 
ness. 

But  Tredennis  could  not  help  seeing  that  for  a  while 
the  tone  of  her  mood,  so  to  speak,  was  lowered.  And 
yet,  curiously  enough,  nothing  of  his  own  dreamy  ex- 
altation died  away.  The  subtle  shadow  which  seemed 
to  have  touched  her,  for  a  moment,  only  intensified  his 
feeling  of  tenderness.  In  fact  there  were  few  things 
which  would  not  have  so  intensified  it ;  his  mental  con- 
dition was  one  which  must  advance  by  steady,  silent 
steps  of  development  to  its  climax.  He  was  not  by 
nature  a  reckless  man,  but  he  was  by  no  means  uncon- 
scious that  there  was  something  very  like  recklessness 
in  his  humor  this  last  day. 

As  for  the  day  itself,  it  also  advanced  by  steady  steps 
to  its  climax,  unfolding  its  beauties  like  a  perfect  flower. 
The  fresh,  rain-washed  morning  drifted  into  a  warm, 
languorous  noon,  followed  by  an  afternoon  so  long  and 
golden  that  it  seemed  to  hold  within  itself  the  flower 
and  sun,  shade  and  perfume,  of  a  whole  summer.  Tre- 
dennis had  never  known  so  long  an  afternoon,  he 
thought,  and  yet  it  was  only  lengthened  by  the  strange 
delight  each  hour  brought  with  it,  and  was  all  too  short 
when  it  was  over.  It  seemed  full  of  minute  details, 
which  presented  themselves  to  his  mind  at  the  time  as 
discoveries.  Bertha  worked  upon  her  lace,  and  he 
watched  her,  waiting  for  the  moment  when  she  would 
look  up  at  him,  and  then  look  down  again  with  a  quick 
or  slow  droop  of  the  lids,  which  impressed  itself  upon 
him  as  a  charm  in  itself.  There  was  a  little  ring  s.he 
wore  which  made  itself  a  memory  to  him,  —  a  simple 
turquoise,  which  set  upon  the  whiteness  of  her  hand 
like  a  blue  flower.  He  saw,  with  a  new  sense  cf  recog- 
nition, every  fold  and  line  of  her  thin,  white  drapery, 
the  slight,  girlish  roundness  of  her  figure,  the  dashes  of 
brightness  in  the  color  of  her  hair,  the  smallness  of  the 
gold  thimble  on  her  finger,  her  grace  when  she  rose  01 


212  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

sat  down,  or  rested  a  little  against  the  red  cushions  in 
her  hammock,  touching  the  ground  now  and  then  with 
her  slender  slipper  and  swaying  lightly  to  and  fro. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  to  her  once,  as  he  watched 
her  do  this,  "  do  you  know,"  —  with  absorbed  hesita- 
tion, —  "  that  I  feel  as  if —  as  if  I  had  never  really  seen 
you  until  to-day  —  until  this  afternoon.  You  seem 
somehow  to  look  different." 

"I  am  not  sure,"  she  answered,  "that  I  have  ever 
seen  you  before ;  but  it  is  not  because  you  look  dif- 
ferent." 

"Why  is  it?"  he  asked,  quite  ready  to  relinquish  any 
idea  of  his  own  in  the  pursuit  of  one  of  hers. 

She  looked  down  a  moment. 

"  To-day,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  you  have  anything 
against  me." 

"  You  think,"  he  returned,  ".that  I  have  usually  some- 
thing against  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  think  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  need  to  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  You  know 
so  well  —  and  it  would  rather  hurt  me  to  put  it  into 
words." 

"  Hurt  you?  "  he  repeated. 

"I  should  be  harder  than  I  am,"  she  returned,  "if  it 
had  not  hurt  me  to  know  it  myself — though  I  would 
not  tell  you  that  at  any  other  time  than  now.  I  dare 
say  I  shall  repent  it  to-morrow,"  she  said. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "you  won't  repent  it.  Don't 
repent  it." 

He  felt  the  vehemence  of  his  speech  too  late  to  check 
it.  When  he  ended  she  was  silent,  and  it  was  as  if 
suddenly  a  light  veil  had  fallen  upon  her  face,  and  he 
felt  that,  too,  and  tried  to  be  calmer. 

"No,"  he  repeated,  "you  must  not  repent.  It  is  I 
who  must  repent  that  I  have  given  you  even  a  little 
pain.  Jt  is  hard  on  me  to  know  that  I  have  done  that." 

The  afternoon  stretched  its  golden  length  to  a  sunset 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  213 

which  cast  deep,  velvet  shadows  upon  the  grass  and 
filled  the  air  with  an  enchanted  mellow  radiance.  Every- 
thing took  a  tinge  of  gold,  —  the  green  of  the  pines  and 
the  broad-leaved  chestnut  trees,  the  gray  and  brown  of 
their  trunks,  the  red  of  the  old  house,  the  honeysuckle 
and  Virginia  creeper  clambering  about  it,  the  birds  fly- 
ing homeward  to  their  nests.  When  the  rich  clearness 
and  depth  of  color  reached  its  greatest  beauty  Bertha 
folded  her  strip  of  lace  and  laid  it  in  the  little  basket. 

"  We  ought  simply  to  sit  and  watch  this,"  she  said. 
"  I  don't  think  we  ought  even  to  speak.  It  will  be  all 
over  in  a  few  minutes,  and  we  shall  never  see  it  again. ' 

"No,"  said  Tredennis,  with  a  sad  prescience;  "no: 
anything  at  all  like  it." 

"  Ah  !  "  was  Bertha's  rejoinder,  "  to  me  it  has  always 
seemed  that  it  is  not  the  best  of  such  hours  that  one 
does  see  others  like  them.  I  have  seen  the  sun  set  like 
this  before." 

"  /  have  not,"  he  said. 

As  he  stood  silent  in  the  stillness  and  glow  a  faint, 
rather  bitter,  smile  touched  his  lips  and  faded  out.  He 
found  himself,  he  fancied,  face  to  face  with  Laurence 
Arbuthnot  again.  He  was  sharing  the  sunset  with  him  ; 
there  were  ten  chances  against  one  that  he  had 
shared  the  day  with  him  also. 

Bertha  sat  in  the  deepening  enchanted  light  with  a 
soft,  dreamy  look.  He  thought  it  meant  that  she  remem- 
bered something ;  but  he  felt  that  the  memory  was  one 
to  which  she  yielded  herself  without  reluctance,  or  that 
she  was  happy  in  it.  At  last  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his, 
and  their  expression  was  very  sweet  in  its  entire  gentle- 
ness and  submission  to  the  spell  of  the  moment. 

"See!"  she  said,  "the  sun  has  slipped  behind  the 
pines  already.  We  have  only  a  few  seconds  left." 

And  then,  even  as  they  looked  at  the  great  fire,  made 
brighter  by  the  dark  branches  through  which  they  saw 
it,  it  sank  a  little  lower,  and  a  little  lower,  and  with  an 
expiring  flame  was  gone. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Bertha  drew  a  quick  breath,  there  was  a  second  or  so 
of  silence,  and  then  she  stirred. 

"It  is  over,"  she  said;  "and  it  has  been  like  watch 
ing  some  one  die,  only  sadder." 

She  took  up  the  little  work-basket  and  rose  from  hei 
seat. 

"  It  seems  a  pity  to  speak  of  mundane  things,"  she 
said ;  "  but  I  think  we  must  go  in  to  tea." 

When  the  children  were  taken  upstairs  for  the  night 
Bertha  went  with  them.  It  had  been  her  habit  to  do 
this  during  their  sojourn  in  the  country,  and  naturally 
Janey  had  been  her  special  care  of  late. 

w  I  cannot  often  do  such  things  when  I  am  in  Wash- 
ington," she  had  explained  once  to  Tredennis.  "And  I 
really  like  it  as  much  as  they  do.  It  is  part  of  the 
holiday." 

As  he  sat  on  the  porch  in  the  starlight  Tredennis 
could  hear  her  voice  mingling  with  the  children's.  The 
windows  were  wide  open ;  she  was  moving  from  one 
room  to  the  other,  and  two  or  three  times  she  laughed 
in  answer  to  some  childish  speech. 

It  was  one  of  these  laughs  which,  at  last,  caused 
Tredennis  to  leave  his  seat  and  go  to  the  place  under 
the  trees  where  the  hammocks  were  swung,  and  which 
was  far  more  the  place  of  general  rendezvous  than  the 
parlor  windows.  From  this  point  he  could  see  the  cor- 
ner of  the  brightly  lighted  room,  near  the  window  where 
it  was  Bertha's  custom  to  sit  in  her  low  chair,  and  rock 
Janey  to  sleep  when  she  was  restless. 

She  was  doing  it  to-night.  He  could  see  the  child's 
head  lying  on  her  bosom,  and  her  own  bent  so  that  her 
cheek  rested  against  the  bright  hair.  In  a  few  moments 
all  was  quiet,  and  she  began  to  sing,  and  as  she  sang, 
swaying  to  and  fro,  Tredennis  looked  and  listened  with- 
out stirring. 

But,  though  it  was  gay  no  longer,  he  liked  to  hear 
her  song,  and  to  his  mind  the  moments  m  which  he 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  215 

itood  in  the  odorous  dark,  looking  upward  at  the  picture 
framed  by  the  vine-hung  wind  )w,  were  among  the  ten- 
derest  of  the  day.  It  was  his  fate  to  be  full  of  a  homely 
sentiment,  which  found  its  pleasure  in  unsophisticated 
primary  virtues  and  affections.  Any  deep  passion  he 
might  be  moved  by  would  necessarily  have  its  founda- 
tion in  such  elements.  He  was  slow  at  the  subtle  analy- 
sis whose  final  result  is  frequently  to  rob  such  sim- 
plicities of  their  value.  His  tendency  was  to  reverence 
for  age,  tenderness  to  womanhood  and  childhood,  faith- 
fulness to  all  things.  There  was  something  boyish  and 
quixotic  in  his  readiness  to  kindle  in  defence  of  any 
womanly  weakness  or  pain.  Nothing  he  had  ever  said, 
or  done,  had  so  keenly  touched  and  delighted  Professor 
Herrick  as  his  fiery  denunciation,  one  night,  of  a  man 
who  was  the  hero  of  a  scandalous  story.  There  had 
been  no  qualifications  of  his  sweeping  assertion  that  in 
such  cases  it  must  be  the  man  who  had  earned  the  right 
to  bear  the  blame. 

"  It  is  always  the  man  who  is  in  the  wrong,"  he  had 
cried,  flushing  fiercely,  w  coward  and  devil  —  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  things  that  he  should  be.  Let  him  stand  at 
the  front  and  take  what  follows,  if  he  has  ever  been  a 
man  for  an  hour  ! "  And  the  professor  had  flushed  also, 
—  the  fainter  flush  of  age,  —  and  had  given  some  silent 
moments  to  reflection  afterwards,  as  he  sat  gazing  at  the 
fire. 

It  was  these  primitive  beliefs  and  sentiments  which 
stirred  within  him  now.  He  would  not  have  lost  one 
low  note  of  the  little  song  for  the  world,  and  he  had  left 
his  seat  only  that  he  might  see  what  he  saw  now,  —  her 
arm  about  her  child,  her  cheek  pressed  against  its  hair. 

It  was  not  long  before  her  little  burden  fell  asleep  he 
saw,  but  she  did  not  rise  as  soon  as  this  happened.  She 
sat  longer,  and  her  song  went  on,  finally  dying  away  into 
brooding  silence,  which  reigned  for  some  time  before  she 
moved. 

At  length   she   lifted   her  face  gently.     She  lookei 


f!6  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

down  at  the  child  a  few  seconds,  and  slowly  changed  th« 
position  in  which  she  lay,  with  an  indescribably  tender 
and  cautious  movement.  Then  she  rose,  and  after  stand- 
ing an  instant,  holding  her  in  her  folding  arms,  crossed 
the  room  and  passed  out  of  sight. 

Tredennis  turned  and  began  mechanically  to  arrange 
the  cushions  in  the  hammock.  He  felt  sure  she  would 
come  to-night  and  talk  to  him,  for  a  little  whtfe  at  least. 

It  was  not  very  long  beforp  he  recognized  her  white 
figuie  in  the  door-way,  and  went  toward  it. 

"  They  are  all  asleep,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  whose 
hushed  tone,  seemed  to  belong  half  to  the  slumber  she 
had  left  and  half  to  the  stillness  of  the  hour. 

"Will  you  come  out  to  the  hammock,"  he  said,  "or 
will  you  sit  here  ?  " 

She  came  forward  and  descended  the  steps. 

"  I  will  sit  in  the  hammock,"  she  replied.  "  1  like  the 
trees  above  me." 

They  went  down  the  path  together,  and  reaching  the 
hammock  she  took  her  usual  seat  among  its  cushions, 
and  he  his  upon  a  rough  rustic  bench  near  her. 

"  I  was  thinking  before  you  came,"  he  said,  M  of  what 
you  said  this  afternoon  of  my  having  something  against 
you.  I  won't  deny  that  there  has  been  something  in 
my  thoughts  of  you  that  often  has  been  miserable,  and 
you  were  right  in  saying  it  was  not  in  them  to-day.  It 
has  not  been  in  them  for  several  days.  What  I  was 
thinking  just  now  was  that  it  could  never  be  in  them 
again." 

She  did  not  stir. 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  went  on,  "I  can't  go  back.  If 
there  had  been  nothing  but  to-day,  I  could  not  go  back 
—  beyond  to-day.  It  would  always  be  a  factor  in  my 
arguments  about  you.  I  should  always  say  to  myself 
when  things  seemed  to  go  wrong :  '  There  was  no 
mistake  about  that  day,  —  she  was  real  then/  and  I 
should  trust  you  against  everything.  To-day  —  and  in 
the  other  days  too  —  I  have  seen  you  as  you  are,  and 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  211 

because  of  that  I  should  tiust  you  in  spite  of  every- 
thing." 

"Oh  I"  she  cried.  "Don't  trust  me  too  much  I" 
There  was  anguish  in  the  sound,  and  he  recognized  it. 

"I  can't  trust  you  too  much,"  he  answered,  with 
obstinacy.  "  No  honest  human  being  can  trust  another 
honest  human  being  too  much." 

"  Am  I  an  honest  human  being  ?  "  she  said. 

WI  shall  believe  you  one  until  the  end,"  he  re- 
turned. 

"That  is  saying  a  great  deal,"  was  her  reply. 

"Listen,"  he  said.  "You  know  I  am  not  like 
Arbuthnot  and  the  rest.  If  I  were  to  try  to  be  like 
them  I  should  only  fail.  But,  though  you  never  told 
me  that  I  could  be  of  any  use  to  you,  and  you  never 
will,  I  shall  know  if  the  time  should  come  —  and 
I  shall  wait  for  it.  Have  we  not  all  of  us  something 
that  belongs  to  ourselves,  and  not  to  the  world, — it  may 
be  a  pleasure  or  a  pain,  it  does  not  matter  which?" 

"No,"  she  put  in,  "  it  does  not  matter  which." 

"It  does  not  matter  to  those  on  the  outside,"  he  went 
on ;  "  it  only  matters  to  us,  and  I  think  we  all  have  it  to 
bear.  Even  I "  — 

"What,"  she  said,  "you,  too?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "I,  too ;  but  it  does  not  matter, 
if  no  one  is  hurt  but  ourselves." 

"  There  are  so  many  things  that  '  do  not  matter/ " 
she  said.  "  To  say  that,  only  means  that  there  is  no 
help." 

"  That  is  true,"  was  his  reply,  *'  and  I  did  not  intend 
to  speak  of  myself,  but  of  you." 

"No,"  she  said,  "don't  speak  of  me,  —  don't  speak 
of  me ! " 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"Because  I  tell  you  that  you  are  trusting  me  too 
much." 

"Go  on,"  he  said. 

She  had  Covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  held 


218  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

them  so  for  a  little  while,  then  she  let  them  fall  slowlj 
to  her  lap. 

"  If  I  tell  you  the  truth,"  she  said,  "  it  will  not  be  ra} 
fault  if  you  still  trust  me  too  much.  I  don't  want  it  to 
be  my  fault.  The  worst  of  me  is,  that  I  am  neither  b:id 
nor  good,  and  that  I  cannot  live  without  excitement.  I 
am  always  changing  and  trying  experiments.  When 
one  experiment  fails,  I  try  another.  They  all  fail  after 
a  while,  or  I  get  tired  of  them." 

"Poor  child!"  he  said. 

She  stirred  slightly ;  one  of  the  flowers  fell  from  her 
belt  upon  her  lap,  and  she  let  it  lie  there. 

"  It  does  not  matter,"  she  answered.  M  All  that  mat- 
ters is,  that  you  should  know  the  truth  about  me,  —  that 
I  am  not  to  be  depended  upon,  and  that,  above  all,  you 
need  not  be  surprised  at  any  change  you  see  in  me." 

"  When  we  meet  again  in  Washington  ?  "  he  suggested. 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  made  her  response. 

"  When  we  meet  again  in  Washington,  or  at  any  time." 

"  Are  you  warning  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  was  her  reply,  and  he  recognized  that  in  spite 
of  her  effort  it  was  faintly  given.  "I  am  warning  you." 

He  looked  down  at  the  grass  and  then  at  her.  The 
determined  squareness  of  chin,  which  was  one  of  the 
chief  characteristics  of  his  face,  struck  her  as  being 
more  marked  than  she  had  ever  seen  it. 

"It  is  unnecessary,"  he  said.     "I  won't  profit  by  it." 

He  rose  abruptly  from  his  seat,  and  there  was  mean- 
ing in  the  movement,  and  in  his  eyes  looking  down  upon 
her  deep  and  dark  in  the  faint  light. 

w  You  cannot  change  me,"  he  said.  "  And  you  would 
have  to  change  me  before  your  warning  would  carry 
weight.  Change  yourself  as  you  like  —  try  as  many 
experiments  a  s  you  like  —  you.  cannot  change  the  last 
ten  days." 

Even  as  the  words  were  uttered,  the  day  was  ended 
for  them  as  they  had  never  once  thought  of  its  ending 
There  fell  npon  the  quiet  the  sound  of  horses'  feet  ap 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  219 

preaching  at  a  rapid  pace  and  coming  to  a  stop  before 
the  gate.  The  dogs  came  bounding  and  baying  from 
the  house,  and  above  their  deep-mouthed  barking  a 
voice  made  itself  heard,  calling  to  some  one  to  come  out. 
—  a  voice  they  both  knew. 

Tredennis  turned  toward  it  with  a  sharp  movement. 

"Do  you  hear  that?"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  said  Bertha;  and  suddenly  her  manner  was 
calm  almost  to  coldness,  —  "  it  is  Laurence  Arbuthnot, 
and  papa  is  with  him.  Let  us  go  and  meet  them." 

And  in  a  few  seconds  they  were  at  the  gate,  and  the 
professor  was  explaining  their  unexpected  appearance. 

"  It  is  all  Mr.  Arbuthnot's  fault,  my  dear,"  he  said ; 
"he  knew  that  I  wished  to  see  you,  and,  having  an  idea 
that  I  was  not  strong  enough  to  make  the  journey  alone, 
he  suddenly  affected  to  have  business  in  this  vicinity. 
It  was  entirely  untrue,  and  I  was  not  in  the  least  de- 
ceived ;  but  I  humored  him,  as  I  begin  to  find  it  best  to 
do,  and  allowed  him  to  bring  me  to  you." 

Arbuthnot  had  dismounted,  and  was  fastening  his 
horse  to  the  gate,  and  he  replied  by  one  of  the  gayest 
and  most  discriminatingly  pitched  of  the  invaluable 
laughs. 

"It  is  no  use,"  he  said;  "the  professor  does  not  be- 
lieve in  me.  He  refuses  to  recognize  in  me  anything 
but  hollow  mockery." 

Bertha  went  to  him.  There  was  something  hurried  in 
her  movement ;  it  was  as  if  she  was  strangely,  almost 
feverishly,  glad  to  see  him.  She  went  to  his  horse's 
head  and  laid  her  hand  on  the  creature's  neck. 

"  That  takes  me  back  to  Washington,"  she  said  :  "to 
Washington.  It  was  like  you  to  come,  and  I  am  glad, 
but  —  you  should  have  come  a  little  sooner." 

And,  as  she  stood  there,  faintly  smiling  up  at  him, 
her  hand  was  trembling  like  i  leaf. 


220  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

IT  was  New-Year's  day,  and  His  Excellency  tht 
President  had  had  several  months  in  which  to  endeavor 
to  adjust  himself  to  the  exigencies  of  his  position ; 
though  whether  he  had  accomplished  this  with  a  result 
of  entire  satisfaction  to  himself  and  all  parties  con- 
cerned and  unconcerned,  had,  perhaps  unfortunately,  not 
been  a  matter  of  record.  According  to  a  time-honored 
custom,  he  had  been  placed  at  the  slight  disadvantage 
of  being  called  upon  to  receive,  from  time  to  time,  the 
opinions  of  the  nation  concerning  himself  without  the 
opportunity  of  expressing,  with  any  degree  of  pub- 
licity, his  own  opinions  regarding  the  nation ;  no  bold 
spirit  having  as  yet  suggested  that  such  a  line  of  pro- 
cedure might  at  least  be  embellished  with  the  advantage 
of  entire  novelty,  apart  from  the  possibility  of  its  call- 
ing forth  such  originality  and  force  of  statement  as 
would  present  to  the  national  mind  questions  never 
before  discussed,  and  perhaps  not  wholly  unimportant. 
All  had,  however,  been  done  which  could  be  done  by  a 
nation  justly  distinguished  for  its  patriotic  consider- 
ation for,  and  courtesy  toward,  the  fortunate  persons 
elevated  to  the  position  of  representing  its  dignity  at 
home  and  abroad.  Nothing  which  could  add  to  that 
dignity  had  been  neglected;  no  effort  which  could 
place  it  in  its  proper  light,  and  remove  all  difficulty 
from  the  pathway  of  the  figure  endeavoring  creditably 
to  support  it,  had  been  spared.  The  character  of  the 
successful  candidate  for  presidential  office  having  been, 
during  the  campaign,  effectually  disposed  of,  —  his 
morals  having  been  impugned,  his  honor  rent  to  tatters, 
his  intellectual  capacity  pronounced  far  below  the  Ic  w- 
est  average,  —  united  good  feeling  was  the  result,  and 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  221 

there  seemed  little  more  to  attain.  His  past  had  been 
exhausted.  Every  event  of  his  political  career  and 
domestic  life  had  been  held  up  to  public  derision,  lauda- 
tion, and  criticism.  It  had  been  successfully  proved 
that  his  education  had  been  entirely  neglected,  and  that 
his  advantages  had  been  marvellous ;  that  he  had  read 
Greek  at  the  tender  age  of  four  years,  and  that  he  had 
not  learned  to  read  at  a[l  until  he  attained  his  majority ; 
that  his  wife  had  taught  him  his  letters,  and  that  he  had 
taught  his  wife  to  spell ;  that  he  was  a  liar,  a  forger, 
and  a  thief;  that  he  was  a  model  of  virtue,  probity,  and 
honor,  —  each  and  all  of  which  incontrovertible  facts 
had  been  public  property  and  a  source  of  national  pride 
and  delight. 

After  the  election,  however,  the  fact  that  he  had  had 
a  past  at  all  had  ceased  to  be  of  any  moment  whatever. 
A  future  —  of  four  years  —  lay  before  him,  and  must 
be  utilized ;  after  that,  the  Deluge.  The  opposing 
party  sneered,  vilified,  and  vaunted  themselves  in  the 
truth  of  their  predictions  concerning  his  incapacity ;  the 
non-opposing  party  advised,  lauded,  cautioned,  mildly 
discouraged,  and  in  a  most  human  revulsion  of  feeling 
showed  their  unprejudiced  frankness  by  openly  con- 
demning on  frequent  occasions.  The  head  of  the  nation 
having  appointed  an  official  from  among  his  immediate 
supporters,  there  arose  a  clamor  of  adverse  criticism 
upon  a  course  which  lowered  the  gifts  of  his  sacred 
office  to  the  grade  of  mere  payment  for  value  received. 
Having  made  a  choice  from  without  the  circle,  he  called 
down  upon  himself  frantic  accusations  of  ingratitude  to 
those  to  whom  he  owed  all.  There  lay  before  him  the 
agreeable  alternatives  of  being  a  renegade  or  a  monu- 
ment of  bribery  and  corruption,  and  if  occasionally 
these  alternatives  lost  for  a  moment  their  attractiveness, 
and  the  head  of  the  nation  gave  way  to  a  sense  of  per- 
plexity, and  was  guilty  of  forming  in  secret  a  vague 
wish  that  the  head  of  the  nation  was  on  some  otbei 
individual's  shoulders,  or  even  went  to  the  length  of 


222  THROUGH   OSE    ADMINISTRATION. 

wishing  that  the  head  upon  his  own  shoulders  was  his  o  vn 
property,  and  not  a  football  for  the  vivacious  strength 
of  the  nation  to  expend  itself  upoj,  — if  this  occurred, 
though  it  is  by  no  means  likely,  it  certainly  revealed 
a  weakness  of  character  and  inadequacy  to  the  situ-* 
at  ion  which  the  nation  could  not  have  failed  to  con- 
demn. The  very  reasonable  prophecy,  — made  by  the 
party  whose  candidate  had  not  been  elected,  — that  the 
government  must  inevitably  go  to  destruction  and  the 
country  to  perdition,  had,  through  some  singular  over- 
sight on  the  part  of  the  powers  threatened,  not  been  ful- 
filled. After  waiting  in  breathless  suspense  for  the 
occurrence  of  these  catastrophes,  and  finding  that  they 
had  apparently  been  postponed  until  the  next  election, 
the  government  had  drawn  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  the 
country  had  gained  courage  to  bestir  itself  cheerfully, 
with  a  view  to  such  perquisites  as  might  be  obtained 
by  active  effort  and  a  strong  sense  of  general  personal 
worthiness  and  fitness  for  any  position. 

There  had  descended  upon  the  newly  elected  ruler  an 
avalanche  of  seekers  for  office,  a  respectable  number  of 
whom  laid  in  his  hands  the  future  salvation  of  their  souls 
and  bodies,  and  generously  left  to  him  the  result.  He 
found  himself  suddenly  established  as  the  guardian  of  the 
widow,  the  orphan,  and  the  friendless,  and  required  to 
repair  fortunes  or  provide  them,  as  the  case  might  be, 
at  a  moment's  notice ;  his  sympathies  were  appealed  to. 
his  interests,  his  generosity,  as  an  altogether  omnipotent 
power  in  whose  hands  all  things  lay,  and  whose  word  was 
naturally  law  upon  all  occasions,  great  or  small ;  and  any 
failure  on  his  part  to  respond  to  the  entirely  reasonable 
requests  preferred  was  very  properly  laid  to  a  tendency  to 
abandoned  scheming  or  to  the  heartless  indifference  of 
the  great,  which  decision  disposed  of  all  difficulties  in 
the  argument,  apart  from  such  trivial  ones  as  were  left 
to  the  portion  of  the  delinquent  and  were  not  referred  to. 
Being  called  upon  in  his  selection  of  his  cabinet  to  dis- 
play the  judgment  of  Solomon,  the  diplomacy  of  Talley- 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  223 

rand,  and  the  daring  of  Napoleon,  and  above  all  to 
combine  like  powers  in  each  official  chosen,  he  might 
have  faltered  but  for  the  assistance  proffered  him  from 
all  sides.  This,  and  the  fact  that  there  was  no  lack  of 
the  qualifications  required,  supported  him.  Each  day 
some  monument  of  said  qualifications,  and  others  too  nu- 
merous to  mention,  was  presented  to  his  notice.  To 
propitiate  the  South  it  was  suggested  that  he  should  ap- 
point A ;  to  secure  the  North,  B ;  to  control 

the  East,  C ;  to  sweep  the  West,  D ;  and  to 

unite  the  country,  E .     Circumstances  having  finally 

led  him  to  decide  upon  G ,  the  government  appeared 

to  be  in  jeopardy  again ;  but  —  possibly  through  having 
made  use  of  its  numerous  opportunities  of  indulging  in 
acrobatic  efforts  in  the  direction  of  losing  its  balance  and 
regaining  it  again  in  an  almost  incredible  manner  —  it 
recovered  from  the  shock,  and  even  retained  its  equilib- 
rium, upon  finding  itself  in  the  end  saddled  with  a  cabinet 
whose  selection  was  universally  acknowledged  to  be  a 
failure  when  it  was  not  denounced  as  a  crime. 

On  this  particular  New  Year's  day  there  were  few 
traces  on  the  social  surface  of  the  disasters  which  so 
short  a  time  before  had  threatened  to  engulf  all.  Wash- 
ington wore  an  aspect  even  gayer  than  usual.  The  presi- 
dential reception  began  the  day  in  its  most  imposing 
manner.  Lines  of  carriages  thronged  the  drive  before 
the  White  House,  and  the  diplomatists,  statesmen,  of- 
ficials, and  glittering  beings  in  naval  and  military  uni- 
form, who  descended  from  them,  were  possibly  cheered 
and  encouraged  by  the  comments  of  the  lookers-on,  who 
knew  them  and  their  glories  and  their  shortcomings  by 
heart.  The  comments  were  not  specially  loud,  however. 
That  which  in  an  English  crowd  takes  the  form  of  ami- 
able or  unamiable  clamor,  in  an  American  gathering  of 
a  like  order  resolves  itself  into  a  serene  readiness  of  re- 
mark, which  exalts  or  disposes  of  a  dignity  with  equal 
impartiality,  and  an  ingenuous  fearlessness  of  any  con- 
°°qu3nce  whatever,  which  would  seem  to  argue  that  all 


THROUGH   ONE    AC  MINISTRATION. 

men  are  born  free  and  some  equal,  though  the  last 
depends  entirely  upon  circumstances.  Each  vehicle, 
having  drawn  up,  deposited  upon  the  stone  steps  of  the 
broad  portico  a  more  or  less  picturesque  or  interesting 
personage.  Now  it  was  the  starred  and  ribboned  rep- 
resentative of  some  European  court ;  again ,  a  calm- 
visaged  Japanese  or  Chinese  official,  in  all  the  splendor 
of  flowing  robes  and  brilliant  color ;  and,  again,  a  man  in 
citizen's  clothes,  whose  unimposing  figure  represented 
cuch  political  eminence  as  to  create  more  stir  among  the 
lookers-on  than  all  the  rest.  Among  equipages,  there 
drove  up  at  length  a  rather  elegant  little  coupe,  from 
which,  when  its  door  was  opened,  there  sprang  lightly 
to  the  stone  steps  the  graceful  figure  of  a  young  man, 
followed  by  an  elder  one.  The  young  fellow,  who  was 
talking  with  much  animation,  turned  an  exhilaratingly 
bright  face  upon  the  crowd  about  him. 

"On  the  whole,  I  rather  like  it,"  he  said. 

"Oh!"  responded  his  companion,  "as  to  that,  yon 
.ike  everything.  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow." 

The  younger  man  laughed  quite  joyously. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  that,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  don't  suppose  you  will  deny  that  it  is  an  advantage." 

"  An  advantage  !  "  repeated  the  other.  "  By  Jupiter, 
I  should  think  it  was  an  advantage !  Now,  how  long 
do  you  think  this  fellow  will  keep  us  waiting  when  we 
want  him?" 

"  Oh  !  "  was  the  answer ;  "  he  is  Mrs.  Amory's  coach- 
man, you  know,  and  there  isn't  a  doubt  that  he  has  had 
excellent  training.  She  isn't  fond  of  waiting." 

"  No,"  said  the  other,  with  a  peculiar  smile.  "I  should 
fancy  she  wasn't.  Well,  I  guess  we'll  go  in." 

They  turned  to  do  so,  and  found  themselves  near  a 
tall  man  in  uniform,  who  almost  immediately  turned 
also,  and  revealed  the  soldierly  visage  of  Colonel 
Tredennis. 

He  made  a  quick  movement  forward,  which  seemed 
to  express  some  surprise. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION  223 

"What,  Amory  !  "  he  exclaimtd.  "You  here,  too? 
I  was  not  at  all  sure  that  you  had  returned." 

"  I  am  scarcely  sure  myself  yet,"  answered  Richard, 
as  he  shook  hands.  "  It  only  happened  last  night ;  but 
Bertha  has  been  home  a  week.  Is  it  possible  you 
haven't  seen  her  ?  " 

"I  have  not  seen  anybody  lately,"  said  Tredennis, 
"and  I  did  not  know  that  she  had  returned  until  I  read 
her  name  in  the  list  of  those  who  would  receive." 

"  Oh,  of  course  she  will  receive,"  said  Richard. 
"  And  Planefield  and  I  —  you  have  met  Senator  Plane- 
field?" 

"How  do  you  do?"  said  Senator  Planefield,  without 
auy  special  manifestation  of  delight. 

Tredennis  bowed,  and  Richard  went  on  airily,  as  they 
made  their  way  in  : 

"Planefield  and  I  have  been  sent  out  to  do  duty, 
and  our  list  extends  from  Capitol  Hill  to  Georgetown 
Heights." 

"And  he,"  said  Senator  Planefield,  "professes  to  en- 
joy the  prospect." 

"Why  not?"  said  Richard.  "It  is  a  bright,  bracing 
day,  and  there  is  something  exhilarating  in  driving  from 
house  to  house,  to  find  one's  self  greeted  at  each  by  a 
roomful  of  charming  women, — most  of  them  pretty, 
some  of  them  brilliant,  all  of  them  well  dressed  and  in 
holiday  spirits.  It  is  delightful." 

"Do  you  find  it  delightful?"  inquired  Planefield, 
turning  with  some  abruptness  to  Tredennis. 

w  I  am  obliged  to  own  that  I  don't  shine  in  society," 
answered  Tredennis. 

He  knew  there  was  nothing  to  resent  in  the  question, 
but  he  was  conscious  of  resenting  something  in  the  man 
himself.  His  big,  prosperous-looking  body  and  darkly 
florid  face,  with  its  heavy,  handsome  outlines,  and  keen, 
bold  eyes,  had  impressed  him  unpleasantly  from  the 
first,  and  on  each  occasion  of  their  meeting  the  im- 
pression seemed  to  deepen. 


226  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Well,  Amory  shines,"  was  his  response,  "and  ?c 
docs  Mrs.  Amory.  We  are  to  drop  in  and  see  her 
shine,  as  often  as  we  happen  to  be  in  the  neighborhood 
through  the  day." 

They  had  reached  the  threshold  of  the  reception-room 
by  this  time,  and  Richard,  catching  the  last  words, 
turned  and  spoke. 

"  Of  course  you  will  be  there  yourself  in  the  course 
of  the  day,"  he  said.  "  We  shall  possibly  meet  you  — 
and,  by-the-by,  you  will  see  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  She 
arrived  two  days  ago." 

When  they  came  out  again  Richard  was  in  more 
buoyant  spirits  than  before.  The  lighted  rooms,  the 
brilliant  dresses,  the  many  faces  he  knew  or  did  not 
know,  the  very  crush  itself,  had  acted  upon  him  like  a 
fine  wind.  He  issued  forth  into  the  light  of  day  again, 
girded  and  eager  for  his  day's  work. 

"There  is  nothing  like  Washington,"  he  announced, 
"  and  especially  nothing  like  Washington  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  season.  Just  at  the  outset,  when  one  is 
meeting  people  for  the  first  time  since  their  return,  they 
actually  have  the  air  of  being  glad  to  see  one,  and  a 
man  has  a  delightful  evanescent  sense  of  being  somehow 
positively  popular." 

"  Does  it  make  you  feel  popular  ?  "  demanded  Plane- 
field  of  Tredennis,  in  his  unceremonious  fashion. 

Tredennis  presented  to  him  an  entirely  immovable 
front. 

"How  do  you  find  it?  "  he  inquired. 

Ihe  man  laughed. 

''Not  as  Amory  does,"  he  answered. 

When  the  coups  appeared  and  he  took  his  place  at 
Richard's  side,  he  bent  forward  to  bestow  on  Tredennis, 
as  they  drove  awiy,  a  glance  expressive  of  but  little 
favor. 

"I  don't  like  that  fellow,"  he  said.  "Confound 
him  I " 

Richard  settled  himself  in  his  coiner  of  the  carriage, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  227 

folding  his  fur-trimmed  coat  about  him  quite  luxuri 
ously. 

"Oh,  no.  Not  confound  him,"  he  replied.  "He  is  a 
delightful  fellow  —  in  his  way." 

"Confound  his  way,  then,"  responded  Planefield. 
"There's  too  much  of  it." 

Richard  leaned  slightly  forward  to  look  at  the  tall, 
motionless  figure  himself,  and  the  faintest  possible 
change  passed  over  his  face  as  he  did  so. 

"  He  is  not  exactly  a  malleable  sort  of  fellow,"  he  re- 
marked, "and  I  suppose  there  might  arise  occasions 
when  he  would  be  a  little  in  the  way ;  but  there  is  no 
denying  that  he  is  picturesque." 

"  Oh  I "  exclaimed  his  companion,  with  more  fervor 
than  grace.  "  The  devil  take  his  picturesqueness  !  " 

In  the  meantime  Colonel  Tredennis  awaited  the  am- 
val  of  his  own  carriage,  which  had  fallen  back  in  the 
Jine.  The  surging  of  the  crowd  about  him,  the  shouts 
of  the  policemen  as  they  called  up  the  vehicles,  the 
rolling  of  vehicles  and  opening  and  shutting  of  doors, 
united  themselves  in  an  uproar  which  seemed  to  afford 
him  a  kind  of  seclusion.  The  subject  of  his  thoughts 
as  he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  throng  was  not  a  new 
one  ;  it  was  one  from  whose  presence  he  had  ceased  to 
expect  to  free  himself;  but  as  the  information  in  the 
morning  paper  had  accelerated  the  pulse  of  emotion  in 
him,  so  his  brief  interview  with  Richard  Amory  had 
quickened  it  again.  Since  the  day  when  he  had  left  her 
in  Virginia,  five  months  before,  he  had  not  seen  Bertha 
at  all,  and  had  only  heard  from  her  directly  once.  She 
had  been  at  Long  Branch,  Saratoga,  Newport,  and  after- 
ward visiting  friends  in  the  northern  cities.  After  his 
return  from  the  West,  Richard  had  frequently  been 
with  her,  and  their  letters  to  the  professor  had  informed 
him  that  they  were  well  and  were  involved  in  a  round 
of  gayeties. 

How  the  time  had  passed  for  Tredennis  he  could  not 
himself  have  told.  When  he  had  returned  to  Wash- 


228  THROLGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

ington  he  had  lived  and  moved  as  a  man  in  a  dream 
The  familiar  streets  and  buildings  wore  an  unfamiliar  look 
It  was  a  relief  to  find  the  places  more  deserted  than  be* 
fore ;  his  chief  desire  was  to  be,  if  possible,  entirely 
alone.  In  the  first  vivid  freshness  of  his  impressions  it 
seemed  incredible  that  the  days  he  had  been  living 
through  had  come  to  an  end,  and  that  absolutely  nothing 
remained  but  the  strange  memory  of  them.  At  times 
it  appeared  that  something  must  happen,  —  some  impos- 
sible thing  which  would  give  reality  to  the  past  and  mo- 
tive to  the  future.  If  in  any  of  his  nightly  walks  before 
the  closed  and  silent  house  he  had  suddenly  seen  that  the 
shutters  were  opened  and  lights  were  shining  within ; 
if  Bertha  herself  had,  without  warning,  stood  at  the  win- 
dow and  smiled  upon  him,  he  would  have  felt  it  at  first 
only  natural,  even  though  he  knew  she  was  hundreds  of 
miles  away. 

This  for  a  few  weeks,  and  then  his  exaltation  died  a 
gradual  death  for  want  of  sustenance,  and  there  remained 
only  the  long,  sultry  days  to  be  lived  through  and  their 
work  to  be  done.  They  were  lived  through,  and  their 
work  was  not  neglected ;  but  there  was  no  one  of  them 
which  dragged  its  slow  length  by  without  leaving  marks 
upon  him  which  neither  time  nor  change  could  erase  in 
any  future  that  might  come. 

"Five  months,"  he  said,  as  he  waited  w:th  the  clamor 
about  him,  "is  longer  than  it  seems  —  it  is  longer." 

And  Miss  Jessup,  passing  him  at  the  moment  and 
looking  up,  found  herself  so  utterly  at  a  loss  for  an  ad- 
jective adequate  to  the  description  of  his  expression, 
that  her  own  bright  and  alert  little  countenance  fell,  and 
existence  temporarily  palled  upon  her. 

It  was  late  in  the  day  when  he  reached  the  Amorys. 
When  he  drove  up  several  carriages  stood  before  the  door, 
one  of  them  Bertha's  own,  from  which  Richard  and 
Planefield  had  just  descended.  Two  or  three  men  were 

)ing  into  the  house,  and  one  or  two  were  leaving  it 
>ugh  the  open  door  were  to  be  seen  the  lighted  hall, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION .  22$ 

and  glimpses  of  bright  rooms  beyond,  from  which  came 
the  sound  of  voices,  laughter,  and  the  clink  of  glass. 

Richard  entered  the  house  with  Tredennis,  and  flung 
off  his  rather  sumptuous  outer  garment  with  a  laugh  of 
relief.  /  *=» 

"  We  have  made  fifty  calls  so  far,"  he  said,  "  and  have  ^  ^^ 
enjoyed   them   enormously.     What   have   you   accom- 
plished?" 

"Not  fifty,  by  any  means,"  Tredennis  answered,  and 
then  the  man-servant  took  his  coat,  and  they  went  into 
the  parlors. 

They  seemed  to  be  full  of N  men, —  young  men,  mid- 
dle-aged men,  old  men ;  even  a  half-grown  boy  or  two 
had  timorously  presented  themselves,  with  large  hopes 
of  finding  dazzling  entertainment  in  the  convivialities  of 
the  day.  The  shutters  were  closed  and  the  rooms  bril- 
liantly alight ;  there  were  flowers  in  every  available 
corner,  and  three  or  four  charmingly  dressed  women, 
each  forming  a  bright  central  figure  in  a  group  of  black 
coats,  gave  themselves  to  their  task  of  entertainment 
with  delightful  animation. 

For  a  moment  Tredennis  stood  still.  He  did  not  see 
Bertha  at  once,  though  he  fancied  he  heard  her  voice  in 
the  room  adjoining,  where,  through  the  half- drawn  por- 
tieres, were  to  be  seen  men  standing,  with  coffee-cups, 
wine-glasses,  or  little  plates  in  their  hands,  about  a  table 
bright  with  flowers,  fruits,  and  all  the  usual  glittering 
appurtenances.  The  next  instant,  amid  a  fresh  burst  of 
laughter,  which  she  seemed  to  leave  behind  her,  she  ap- 
peared upon  the  threshold. 

As  she  paused  a  second  between  the  heavy  curtains 
Tredennis  thought  suddenly  of  a  brilliant  tropical  bird 
he  had  once  seen  somewhere,  and  the  fancy  had  scarcely 
formed  itself  in  his  mind  before  she  recognized  him  and 
came  forward. 

He  had  never  seen  her  so  brilliantly  dressed  before. 
The  wonderful  combination  of  rich  and  soft  reds  in  her 
costume,  the  flash  of  the  little  jewelled  bands  clasped 


230  THfeOUJH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

close  about  her  bare  throat  and  arms,  their  pendants* 
trembling  and  glowing  in  the  light,  the  color  on  hex 
cheeks,  the  look  in  her  eyes,  had  a  curiously  bewilder- 
ing effect  upon  him.  When  she  gave  him  her  hand  ho 
scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  it,  and  could  only  wait 
for  her  to  speak.  And  she  spoke  as  if  they  had  parted 
only  an  hour  ago. 

"At  last,"  she  said.  "And  it  was  very  nice  in  you 
to  leave  me  until  the  last,  because  now  I  know  you  will 
not  feel  obliged  to  go  away  so  soon."  And  she  with- 
drew her  hand  and  opened  her  fan,  and  stood  smiling 
up  at  him  over  its  plumy  border.  "  You  see,"  she  said, 
"that  we  have  returned  to  our  native  atmosphere  and 
may  begin  to  breathe  freely.  Now  we  are  real  creatures 
again." 

"Are  we?"  he  answered.  "Is  that  it?"  and  he 
glanced  over  the  crowd,  and  then  came  back  to  her 
and  looked  her  over  from  the  glittering  buckle  on  her 
slipper  to  the  scintillating  arrow  in  her  hair.  "  I  sup- 
pose we  have,"  he  added.  "I  begin  to  realize  it." 

"  If  you  need  anything  to  assist  you  to  realize  it,"  she 
said,  "  cast  your  eye  upon  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  and  I  think 
you  will  find  him  sufficient ;  for  me,  everything  crystal- 
lized itself  and  all  my  doubts  disappeared  the  moment 
I  saw  his  opera  hat,  and  heard  his  first  remark  about 
the  weather.  It  is  a  very  fine  day,"  she  added,  with  a 
serene  air  of  originality,  "a  little  cold,  but  fine  and 
clear.  Delightful  weather  for  those  of  you  who  are 
making  calls.  It  has  often  struck  me  that  it  must  be 
unpleasant  to  undertake  so  much  when  the  weather  is 
against  you.  It  is  colder  to-day  than  it  was  yesterday, 
but  it  will  be  likely  to  be  warmer  to-morrow.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  that  we  shall  have  an  agreeable  winter." 

"You  might,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  over  the 
top  of  her  fan,  "induce  them  to  mention  it  m  the 
churches," 

"  That,"  she  answered,  "  is  the  inspiration  of  true 
genius,  and  it  shall  be  attended  to  at  once,  or —  hero  ig 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  231 

iSenator  Planefield ;  perhaps  he  might  accomplish  son.e- 
thing  by  means  of  a  bill  ?  " 

The  senator  joined  them  in  his  usual  manner,  which 
was  not  always  an  engaging  manner,  and  was  at  times  a 
little  suggestive  of  a  disposition  to  appropriate  the  com- 
munity, and  was  also  a  somewhat  loud-voiced  manner, 
and  florid  in  its  decorative  style.  It  was,  on  the  whole, 
less  engaging  than  usual  upon  the  present  occasion. 
The  fact  that  he  was  for  some  reason  not  entirely  at 
ease  expressed  itself  in  his  appearing  to  be  very 
wonderfully  at  ease ;  indeed,  metaphorically  speaking, 
he  appeared  to  have  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  A  bill !  "  he  said.  "  You  have  the  floor,  and  I  stand 
ready  to  second  any  motion  you  choose  to  make.  I  think 
we  might  put  it  through  together.  What  can  we  do  for 
you?" 

"We  want  an  appropriation,"  Bertha  answered, — "aa 
appropriation  of  fine  weather,  which  will  enable  Colonel 
Tredennis  to  be  as  giddy  a  butterfly  of  fashion  as  his 
natural  inclination  would  lead  him  to  desire  to  be." 

Planefield  glanced  at  Tredennis  with  a  suggestion  of 
grudging  the  momentary  attention. 

"Is  he  a  butterfly  of  fashion?"  he  asked. 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Bertha,—"  is  it  possible  that  you 
have  not  detected  it  ?  It  is  the  fatal  flaw  upon  his  almost 
perfect  character.  Can  it  be  that  you  have  been  taking 
him  seriously,  and  mistakenly  imagining  that  it  was  Mr. 
Arbuthnot  who  was  frivolous  ?  " 

"Arbuthnot,"  repeated  the  senator.  "Which  is  Ar- 
buthnot?  How  is  a  man  to  tell  one  from  the  other? 
There  are  too  many  of  them  !  " 

"  What  an  agreeable  way  of  saying  that  Colonel  Tro- 
dennis  is  a  host  in  himself !  "  said  Bertha.  "  But  I  have 
certainly  not  found  that  there  were  too  many  of  him, 
and  I  assure  you  that  you  would  know  Mr.  Arbuthnot 
from  the  other  after  you  had  exchanged  remarks  with 
him.  He  has  just  been  beguiled  into  the  next  room  by 
Mrs.  Sylvestre,  who  u  going  to  give  him  some  coffee." 


232  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Mrs.  Sylvestrc,"  said  Tredennis.  "Richard  told 
me  she  was  with  you,  and  I  was  wondering  why  I  did 
not  see  her." 

"  You  did  not  see  her,"  said  Bertha,  "  because  1 
wished  her  to  dawn  upon  you  slowly,  and,  having  that 
end  in  view,  I  arranged  that  Mr.  Arbuthnot  should 
occupy  her  attention  when  I  saw  you  enter." 

"  He  couldn't  stand  it  all  at  once,  could  he  ?  "  remarked 
Planefield,  whose  manner  of  giving  her  his  attention 
was  certainly  not  grudging.  He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
her  face,  and  apparently  found  entertainment  in  her 
most  trivial  speech. 

"It  was  not  that,  exactly,"  she  answered.  Then  she 
spoke  to  Tredennis. 

"  She  is  ten  times  as  beautiful  as  she  was,"  she  said, 
"  and  it  would  not  be  possible  to  calculate  how  many 
times  more  charming." 

"That  was  not  necessary,"  responded  Tredennis. 

He  could  not  remove  his  own  eyes  from  her  face, 
even  while  he  was  resenting  the  fact  that  Planefield 
looked  at  her ;  he  himself  watched  her  every  move- 
ment and  change  of  expression. 

"  It  was  entirely  unnecessary,"  she  returned ;  "  but  it 
is  the  truth." 

"  You  are  trying  to  prejudice  him  against  her,"  said 
Planefield. 

"  She  is  my  ideal  of  all  that  a  beautiful  woman  ought 
to  be,"  she  re}  lied,  "  and  I  should  like  to  form  myself 
upon  her." 

"  Oh,  we  don't  want  any  of  that,"  put  in  Planefield. 
*  You  are  good  enough  for  us." 

She  turned  her  attention  to  him.  Her  eyes  met  his 
with  the  most  ingenuous  candor,  and  yet  the  little  smile 
in  them  was  too  steady  not  to  carry  suggestion  with  it. 

"Quite? "she  said. 

"Yes,  quite,"  he  answered,  not  so  entirely  at  easi 
is  before. 

Her  little  smile  did  not  waver  in  the  least. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  233 

*  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  it  seems  almost  incredi- 
ble, but  I  will  try  to  believe  it.  Now,"  she  said  to 
Tredennis,  "  if  Senator  Planefield  will  excuse  me  for  a 
moment,  I  will  take  you  into  the  other  room.  You 
shall  speak  to  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  He  has  already  Been 
her.  Will  you  come  ?  " 

"I  shall  be  very  glad,"  he  answered.  lie  followed 
as  she  led  him  to  the  adjoining  room.  On  its  thresh- 
old she  paused  an  instant. 

"  Exactly  as  I  expected,"  she  said.  w  She  is  listening 
to  Mr.  Arbuthnot." 

Mr.  Arbuthnot  was  standing  at  the  end  of  the  low 
mantel.  He  held  a  cup  of  coffee  in  his  hand,  but  had 
apparently  forgotten  it  in  giving  his  attention  to  his 
very  charming  companion.  This  companion  was,  of 
course,  Mrs.  Sylvestre  herself.  Tredennis  recognized 
her  clear,  faintly  tinted  face  and  light,  willowy  figure 
at  once.  She  wore  a  dress  of  black  lace,  with  purple 
passion-flowers,  and  she  was  looking  at  Arbuthnot  with 
reflective  eyes,  almost  the  color  of  the  flowers.  She 
did  not  seem  to  be  talking  herself,  but  she  was  listen- 
ing beautifully,  with  a  graceful,  receptive  attention. 
Arbuthnot  evidently  felt  it,  and  was  improving  his 
shining  hour  with  a  sense  of  enjoyment  tempered  by  no 
lack  of  ability  to  avail  himself  of  its  fleeting  pleasure. 

It  is  possible,  however,  that  his  rapture  at  seeing 
Tredennis  may  have  been  tempered  by  the  natural 
weakness  of  man,  but  he  bore  himself  with  his  usual 
unperturbed  equanimity. 

w  There,"  he  remarked  to  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  w  is  the 
most  objectionable  creature  in  Washington." 

w  Objectionable  ! "  Mrs.  Sylvestre  repeated.  M  Bertha 
ie  bringing  him  here." 

"Yes,"  responded  Arbuthnot,  "that  is  the  objection 
ID  him,  and  it  leaves  him  without  a  redeeming  quality." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  gave  him  a  charmingly  interested 
glance,  and  the  next  instant  made  a  slight  movement 
forward. 


234  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed,  "it  is  Colonel  Tredenms!" 
and  she  held  out  her  hand  with  the  most  graceful  gest- 
ure of  welcome  imaginable. 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  remember  me,"  Tredennis 
said. 

"It  was  not  difficult,"  she  answered,  with  a  smile. 
And  they  fell,  in  the  most  natural  manner,  a  step  apart 
from  the  others,  and  she  stood  and  looked  at  him  as  he 
spoke  just  as  she  had  looked  at  Arbuthnot  a  moment 
before.  Arbuthnot  began  to  give  mild  attention  to  his 
coffee. 

"  It  is  quite  cold,"  he  said  to  Bertha.  "  Will  you 
give  me  another  cup  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  and  took  it  from  his  hand  to 
carry  it  to  the  table.  He  followed  her,  and  stood  at 
her  side  as  she  poured  the  fresh  cup  out. 

"  It  is  my  impression,"  he  said,  with  serene  illiber- 
ality,  "  that  she  did  not  remember  him  at  all." 

"Yes,  she  did,"  Bertha  replied.  "She  remembers 
everybody.  That  is  one  of  her  gifts.  She  has  a  great 
many  gifts." 

"  I  did  not  place  implicit  confidence  in  her  intimation 
that  she  remembered  me,"  he  proceeded,  still  serenely. 
"I  liked  the  statement,  and  saw  the  good  taste  of  it, 
and  the  excellent  reasons  for  its  being  true ;  but  I  man- 
aged to  restrain  the  nai've  impulses  of  a  trusting  nature. 
And  it  doesn't  strike  me  as  being  so  entirely  plausible 
that  she  should  have  remembered  Tredennis." 

He  paused  suddenly  and  looked  at  Bertha's  hand,  in 
which  she  held  the  sugar-tongs  and  a  lump  of  sugar. 

"  Will  you  have  one  lump,  or  two?"  she  asked. 

Then  he  looked  from  her  hand  to  her  face.  Her  hand 
was  trembling  and  her  face  was  entirely  without  color. 
The  look  of  strained  steadiness  in  her  uplifted  eyes  was 
a  siiock  to  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  any  one  who 
chanced  to  glance  at  her  must  see  it. 

"  You  have  been  standing  too  long,"  he  said,  "  You 
have  tired  yourself  out  again." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  238 

He  took  the  cup  of  coffee  from  her. 

"  It  is  too  late  for  you  to  expect  many  calls  now,"  he 
said,  "  and  if  any  one  comes  you  can  easily  be  found  in 
the  conservatory.  I  am  going  to  take  you  there,  and 
let  you  sit  down  for  a  few  seconds,  at  least." 

He  gave  her  his  arm  and  carried  the  cup  of  coffee  with 
him. 

"You  will  have  to  drink  this  yourself,"  he  said. 
"Have  you  eaten  anything  to-day?" 

"No,"  she  replied. 

w  I  thought  not.  And  then  you  are  surprised  to  find 
your  hand  trembling.  Don't  you  see  what  nonsense  it 
is?" 

"Yes." 

He  stepped  with  her  into  the  tiny  conservatory  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  and  gave  her  a  seat  behind  a  substan- 
tial palm  on  a  red  stand.  His  eyes  never  left  her  face, 
though  he  went  on  talking  in  the  most  matter-of-fact  tone. 

"Drink  that  coffee,"  he  said,  "and  then  I  will  bring 
you  n  glass  of  wine  and  a  sandwich." 

She  put  out  her  hand  as  if  to  take  the  cup,  but  it  tell, 
shaking,  upon  her  lap. 

"I  can't,"  she  said. 

"  You  must,"  he  replied. 

The  inflexibility  of  his  manner  affected  her,  as  he  had 
known  it  would.  When  he  sat  down  in  the  low  seat  at 
her  side,  and  held  out  the  cup,  she  took  it. 

"  Go  and  get  the  wine,"  she  said,  without  looking  at 
him. 

He  went  at  once,  neither  speaking  nor  glancing  back 
at  her.  He  was  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  turning  his 
face  avay  from  her,  since  he  felt  that,  in  spite  of  his 
determination,  it  was  losing  something  of  its  expression- 
less calm. 

When  he  entered  the  room  Mrs.  Sylvestre  still  stood 
where  he  had  left  her.  It  was  she  who  was  speaking 
now,  and  Tredennis,  who  was  listening,  looking  down 
upon  her  with  an  expression  of  much  interest, 


236  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

When  he  had  procured  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  sandwich 
Arbuthnot  went  to  her.  " 

"I  have  secreted  Mrs.  Amory  in  the  conservatory," 
he  said,  "  with  a  view  of  inducing  her  to  take  something 
in  the  form  of  sustenance.  I  can  produce  her  at  a 
moment's  notice  if  she  is  needed." 

"  That  was  consideration,"  she  replied. 

"  It  was  humanity,"  he  answered,  and  went  away. 

Bertha  had  finished  the  coffee  when  he  returned  to 
her.  The  blanched  look  had  left  her,  and  her  voicet 
when  she  spoke,  sounded  more  natural  and  steady. 

"  It  did  me  good,"  she  said,  and  this  time  she  looked 
at  him,  and  there  was  something  in  her  uplifted  eyes 
which  touched  him. 

w  I  knew  it  would,"  he  answered. 

"  You  always  know,"  she  said.  "  There  is  no  one 
who  knows  so  well  what  is  good  for  me  " ;  and  she  said 
it  with  great  gentleness. 

He  took  refuge  from  himself,  as  he  sometimes  found 
it  discreet  to  do,  in  his  usual  airy  lightness. 

"  I  am  all  soul  myself,"  he  remarked,  "  as  you  may 
have  observed,  and  I  understand  the  temptation  to  scorn 
earthly  food  arid  endeavor  to  subsist  wholly  upon  the 
plaudits  of  the  multitude.  You  will,  perhaps,  permit 
me  to  remark  that  though  the  new  gown"  —  with  an 
approving  glance  at  it  —  "  is  an  immense  and  unqualified 
success,  I  doubt  its  power  to  sustain  nature  during  the 
BIX  or  eight  hours  of  a  New  Year's  reception." 

Bertha  glanced  down  at  it  herself. 

"Do  you  think  it  is  pretty?"  she  asked. 

w  I  shouldn't  call  it  pretty,"  he  replied.  "  I  should 
call  it  something  more  impressive." 

She  still  looked  at  it. 

"  It  is  a  flaring  thing,"  she  said. 

"No,  it  isn't,"  he  returned,  promptly.  "Not  in  the 
least.  You  might  call  it  brilliant  —  if  you  insist  on  an 
adjective.  It  is  a  brilliant  thing,  and  it  is  not  like  you 
in  the  least." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION".  237 

She  turned  toward  him. 

*  No,"  she  said,  "it  isn't  like  me  in  the  least." 

"It  looks,"  remarked  Arbuthnot,  giving  it  some 
lightly  critical  attention,  "  as  if  you  had  taken  a  new 
departure." 

"  That  is  it  exactly,"  she  returned.  "  You  always  say 
the  right  thing.  I  have  taken  a  new  departure." 

"Might  I  ask  in  what  direction?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  she  responded.  "I  will  tell  you,  as  a  fair 
warning.  I  am  going  to  be  a  dazzling  and  worldly 
creature." 

"  You  are? "  he  said.  "Now  that  is  entirely  sensible, 
though  I  should  scarcely  call  it  a  new  departure.  You 
know  you  tried  it  last  winter,  with  the  most  satisfying 
results.  When  Lent  came  on  you  had  lost  several 
pounds  in  weight  and  all  your  color ;  you  had  refined 
existence  until  neither  rest  nor  food  appeared  necessary 
to  you,  and  the  future  was  naturally  full  of  promise. 
Be  gay,  by  all  means  ;  you'll  find  it  pay,  I  assure  you. 
Go  to  a  lunch-party  at  one,  and  a  reception  at  four,  a 
dinner  in  the  evening,  and  drop  in  at  a  German  or  so  on 
your  way  home,  taking  precautions  at  the  same  time 
against  neglecting  your  calling-list  in  the  intervals  these 
slight  recreations  allow  you.  Oh,  I  should  certainly 
advise  you  to  be  gay." 

"Laurence,"  she  said,  "do  you  think  if  one  should 
do  that  every  day,  every  day,  and  give  one's  self  no  rest, 
that  after  a  while  it  would  kill  one  ?  " 

He  regarded  her  fixedly  for  an  instant. 

"  Do  you  want  to  die?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

She  sat  perfectly  still,  and  something  terribly  like, 
and  yet  terribly  unlike,  a  smile  crept  slowly  into  hei 
eyes  as  they  met  his.  Then  she  replied,  without  flinch- 
ing in  the  least,  or  moving  her  gaze  : 

"No." 

He  held  up  a  long,  slender  forefinger,  and  shook  it  at 
her,  slowly,  m  his  favorite  gesture  cf  warning. 

wNo,"  he  said,  "you  don't;  but,  even  if  you  fancied 


233  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION 

you  did,  don't  flatter  yourself  that  it  would  happen. 
Shall  I  tell  you  what  would  occur?  You  would  sirnpty 
break  down.  You  would  lose  your  self-control  and  do 
things  yo:  did  not  wish  to  do;  you  would  find  it  a 
uhysical  impossibility  to  be  equal  to  the  occasion,  and 
j  cu  would  end  by  being  pale  and  haggard  —  haggard, 
and  discovering  that  your  gcwns  were  not  becoming  to 
you.  How  does  the  thing  strike  you?" 

"  It  is  very  brutal,"  she  said,  with  a  little  shudder ; 
"  but  it  is  true." 

"When  you  make  ten  remarks  that  are  true,"  he 
returned,  "nine  of  them  are  brutal.  That  is  the  charm 
of  life." 

"  I  don't  think,"  she  said,  with  inconsequent  resent- 
ment, "that  you  very  much  mind  being  brutal  to  me." 

"  A  few  minutes  ago  you  said  I  knew  what  was  good 
for  you,"  he  responded. 

"You  do,"  she  said,  "that  is  it,  and  it  is  only  like  me 
that  I  should  hate  you  because  you  do.  You  must 
think,"  with  a  pathetic  tone  of  appeal  for  herself  in  her 
voice,  "  that  I  do  not  mind  being  brutal  to  you ;  but  I 
don't  want  to  be.  I  don't  want  to  do  any  of  the  things 
I  am  doing  now." 

She  picked  up  the  bouquet  of  Jacqueminot  roses  she 
had  been  carrying  and  had  laid  down  near  her. 

"  Don't  talk  about  me,"  she  said.  "  Let  us  talk  about 
something  else,  —  these,  for  instance.  Do  you  know 
where  they  came  from  ?  " 

"  I  could  scarcely  guess." 

"  Senator  Planefield  sent  them  to  me." 

He  regarded  them  in  silence. 

M  They  match  the  dress,"  she  said,  "  and  they  belong  to 
it." 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "they  matcn  the  dress." 

Then  he  was  silent  again. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  restlessly,  "  why  don't  you  say 
something  to  nee ?  " 

"There  isn'v  anything  to  say,"  he  replied. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  239 

w  You  are  thinking  that  I  am  very  bad  ?  "  she  said. 

"You  are  trying  to  persuade  yourself  that  you  are 
very  bad,  and  are  finding  a  fictitious  excitement  in  it ; 
but  it  is  all  a  mistake.  It  won't  prove  the  consolation 
you  expect  it  to,"  he  answered.  "Suppose  you  give  it 
up  before  it  gives  rise  to  complications." 

"We  are  talking  of  Bertha  Amory  again,"  she  said. 
"  Let  us  talk  about  Agnes  Sylvestre.  Don't  you  find 
her  very  beautiful  ?  " 

"Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Why  don't  you  say  more  than  '  yes  *  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  You  mean  more." 

"I  couldn't  mean  more,"  he  answered.  "I  should 
think  it  was  enough  to  mean  that  much;  there  are 
even  circumstances  under  which  it  might  be  too  much." 

"  She  is  lovelier  than  she  used  to  be,"  said  Bertha, 
reflectively  ;  "  and  more  fascinating." 

"  Yes  to  that  also,"  he  responded. 

w  Any  one  might  love  her,"  she  went  on,  in  the  same 
tone.  "Any  one." 

"I  should  think  so,"  he  replied,  quietly. 

"I  do  not  see  how  it  would  be  possible,"  she  added, 
"  for  any  one — who  was  thrown  with  her — to  resist  her 
—  unless  it  was  some  one  like  you." 

She  turned  a  faint  smile  upon  him. 

"I  am  glad,"  she  said,  "that  you  are  not  susceptible. H 

"  So  am  I,"  he  said,  with  some  dryness. 

"If  you  were  susceptible  you  would  go  too,"  she 
ended.  "And  I  don't  want  every  one  to  leave  me." 

"  Every  one  ?  "  he  repeated. 

She  rose  as  if  to  go,  giving  a  light  touch  to  the  folds 
of  her  dress,  and  still  smiling  a  little. 

"Colonel  Tredennis  has  fallen  a  victim,"  she  said,  "in 
the  most  natural  and  proper  manner.  I  knew  he  would, 
and  he  has  distinguished  himself  by  at  once  carrying 
out  my  plans  for  him.  Now  we  must  go  back  to  the 
parlors.  I  have  rested  long  enough." 

They  returned  just  in  time  to  meet  a  fresh  party  of 


210  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

callers,  and  Arbuthnot  was  of  necessity  thrown  for  the 
time  being  upon  his  own  resources.  These  did  not  fail 
him.  He  found  entertainment  in  his  surroundings 
until  a  certain  opportunity  he  had  rather  desired  pre- 
sented itself  to  him.  He  observed  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre 
was  once  more  near  him,  and  that  the  men  occupying 
her  attention  were  on  the  point  of  taking  their  leave. 
By  the  time  they  had  done  so  he  had  dexterously 
brought  to  a  close  his  conversation  with  his  male  com- 
panion, and  had  unobtrusively  forwarded  himself,  in 
an  entirely  incidental  manner,  as  an  aspirant  for  hor 
notice. 

She  received  him  with  a  quiet  suggestion  of  pleasure 
in  her  smile. 

"Have  you  enjoyed  the  day?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "I  am  almost  sorry  that  it  is  so 
nearly  over.  It  has  been  very  agreeable." 

Then  he  found  her  eyes  resting  upon  him  in  the  quiet 
and  rather  incomprehensible  way  which  Bertha  had 
counted  among  her  chiefest  charms. 

" Have  you  enjoyed  it?"  she  inquired. 

"  If  I  had  not,"  he  said,  "  I  should  feel  rather  like  a 
defeated  candidate.  One  may  always  enjoy  things  if  one 
applies  one's  self." 

She  seemed  to  reflect  upon  him  an  instant  again. 

"  You  see  a  great  deal  of  Bertha  ?  "  she  said. 

"Yes,  a  great  deal.  Would  you  mind  telling  mo 
why  you  ask  ?  " 

"Because  that  remark  was  so  entirely  like  her,"  she 
replied. 

"Well,"  he  returned,  "there  is  no  denying  that  I  have 
formed  myself  upon  her,  and  though  the  fact  reveals 
me  in  all  my  shallow  imitative  weakness,  I  can  offer  the 
apology  that  the  means  justifies  the  end.  Upon  the 
whole,  I  am  glad  to  be  detected,  as  it  points  to  a  meas- 
ure of  success  in  the  attempt." 

"But,"  she  went  on, "  she  tells  me  that  she  ha 3  formed 
herself  upon  you." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  241 

*  Ah  I  "  he  said  ;  "  she  meant  you  to  repeat  it  to  me, 
her  design  being  to  betray  me  into  a  display  of  intoxi- 
cated vanity." 

"  She  is  very  fond  of  you,"  she  remarked. 

"  I  am  very  fond  of  her,"  he  answered,  quickly  —  and 
then  relapsing  into  his  usual  manner  —  "though  that  is 
not  a  qualification  sufficiently  rare  to  distinguish 
me." 

"No,"  she  said,  "it  is  not." 

Then  she  gave  Bertha  one  of  the  glances. 

"  It  was  very  thoughtful  in  you  to  take  her  into  the 
conservatory,"  she  said.  "I  was  startled  to  see  how 
pale  she  looked  as  you  left  the  room." 

"She  is  not  strong,"  he  said,  "and  she  insists  on 
ignoring  the  fact." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  "that was  what 
struck  me  when  we  met  for  the  first  time  in  the  autumn 
—  that  she  was  not  strong.  She  used  to  be  strong." 

"  If  she  would  accept  the  fact  she  would  get  over  it," 
he  said ;  "  but  she  won't." 

"I  met  her  first  at  Newport,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre, 
"just  after  Janey's  illness.  For  a  day  or  so  I  felt  that  I 
did  not  know  her  at  all ;  but  in  course  of  time  I  got 
over  the  feeling ;  or  she  changed  —  I  scarcely  know 
which.  I  suppose  the  strain  during  the  little  girl's  ill- 
ness had  been  very  severe  ?  " 

"'  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  said  Arbuthnot ;  "  and 
her  anxiety  had  been  much  exaggerated." 

"I  shall  see  a  great  deal  of  her  this  winter,"  she 
returned,  "and  perhaps  I  may  persuade  her  to  take 
care  of  herself." 

He  spoke  with  a  touch  of  eager  seriousness  in  hi& 
manner. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  he  said.  "  It  is  what  she  needs, 
that  some  woman  should  call  her  attention  to  the  mis- 
take she  is  making." 

"  I  will  try  to  do  it,"  she  responded,  gently.  "  I  am 
fond  of  her  too." 


242  THROUGH   ONE,  ADMINISTRATION. 

"And  you  intend  remaining  in  Washington?"  h« 
asked. 

"  Yes.  I  have  had  no  plans  for  three  years.  When 
first  it  dawned  on  me  that  it  would  interest  me  to  make 
plans  again,  I  thought  of  Washington.  I  have  found  a 
house  'n  Lafayette  Square,  and  I  think  I  shall  be  estab- 
lished in  it,  with  the  assistance  of  my  aunt,  who  is  to 
iive  with  me,  in  about  three  weeks." 

"  That  sounds  very  agreeable,"  he  remarked. 

"  I  shall  hope  to  make  it  sufficiently  so,"  she  said. 
*  Will  you  come  sometimes  to  see  if  my  efforts  are 
successful ?  " 

"  If  you  knew  how  unworthy  I  am,"  he  responded, 
tf  even  my  abject  gratitude  for  your  kindness  would  not 
repay  you  for  it." 

"  Are  you  so  very  unworthy  ? "  she  was  beginning, 
when  her  eyes  appeared  to  be  caught  by  some  object  at 
the  other  side  of  the  room. 

It  was  not  a  particularly  interesting  object.  It  was 
merely  the  figure  of  au  unprepossessing  boy,  whose 
provincial  homeliness  was  rendered  doubly  impressive 
by  his  frightful  embarrassment.  He  had  arrived  a  few 
moments  before,  with  two  more  finished  youths,  whose 
mother  Bertha  knew,  and,  having  been  basely  deserted 
by  them  at  the  outset,  had  stranded  upon  the  treacherous 
shores  of  inexperience  as  soon  as  he  had  shaken  hands. 

Mrs.  Sylvestre's  beautiful  eyes  dwelt  upon  him  a  mo- 
ment with  sympathy  and  interest. 

"  Will  you  excuse  me,"  she  said  to  Arbuthnot,  "  if  I  go 
und  talk  to  that  boy  ?  Bertha  is  too  busy  to  attend  to 
him,  and  i.e  seems  to  know  no  one." 

Arbuthnot  gave  the  boy  a  glance.  He  would  not  hare 
regretted  any  comparatively  harmless  incident  whicb 
would  have  removed  him,  but  his  own  very  naturally 
Ignoble  desire  not  to  appear  to  a  disadvantage  restrained 
the  impulse  prompting  a  derisive  remark.  And  whilu 
lie  objected  to  the  boy  in  his  most  pronounced  manner, 
he  did  not  object  in  the  least  to  what  he  was  clever  enough 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  243 

to  see  in  his  companion's  words  and  the  ready  sympathy 
they  expressed.  Indeed,  there  was  a  side  of  him  which 
derived  definite  pleasure  from  it. 

"I  will  excuse  you,"  he  answered;  "but  I  need  you 
more  than  the  boy  does,  and  I  cannot  help  believing  that 
I  am  more  worthy  of  you  ;  though,  of  course,  I  only  uso 
the  word  in  its  relative  sense.  As  I  remarked  before,  1 
am  unworthy,  but  as  compared  to  the  boy —  He  is  a 
frightful  boy,"  he  added,  seeming  to  take  him  in  more 
fully  ;  "  but  I  dare  say  his  crimes  are  unpremeditated. 
Let  me  go  with  you  and  find  out  if  I  know  his  mother. 
I  frequently  know  their  mothers." 

"  If  you  do  know  his  mother,  I  am  sure  it  will  be  a 
great  relief  to  him,  and  it  will  assist  me,"  said  Mrs. 
Sylvestre. 

They  crossed  the  room  together,  and,  seeing  them  ap- 
proach, the  boy  blushed  vermilion  and  moved  uneasily 
from  one  foot  to  the  other.  Gradually,  however,  his 
aspect  changed  a  little.  Here  were  rather  attractive 
worldlings  whose  bearing  expressed  no  consciousness 
whatever  of  his  crime  of  boyhood.  He  met  Mrs.  Syl- 
vestre's  eyes  and  blushed  less  ;  he  glanced  furtively  at 
Arbuthnot,  and  suddenly  forgot  his  hands  and  became 
almost  unconscious  of  his  legs. 

"I  have  been  asking  Mrs.  Sylvestre,"  said  Arbuthnot, 
with  civil  mendacity,  "  if  you  did  not  come  with  the  Bart- 
letts.  I  thought  I  saw  you  come  in  together." 

"Yes,"  responded  the  boy.     "  I  am  a  cousin  of  theirs." 

"  Then  I  have  heard  them  speak  of  you,"  Arbuthnot 
returned.  "  And  I  think  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
your  sister  several  times  last  winter,  —  Miss  Hemming- 
way?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy  ;  "  she  was  here  on  a  visit." 

In  two  minutes  he  found  himself  conversing  almost 
fluently,  and  it  was  Arbuthnot  who  was  his  inspiration 
equally  with  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  He  was  a  modest  and 
^offensive  youth,  and  overestimated  the  brilliance  of  the 
scenes  surrounding  him,  and  the  gifts  and  charms  of  his 


244  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

new-found  friends,  with  all  the  ardor  of  his  tender  years, 
To  him,  Arbuthnot's  pale,  well-bred  face  and  simple, 
immaculate  attire  represented  luxury,  fashion,  and  thi 
whirling  vortex  of  society.  The  kindly  imagination  of 
simplicity  bestowed  upon  him  an  unlimited  income  and 
an  exalted  position  in  the  diplomatic  corps,  at  least; 
his  ease  of  manner  and  readiness  of  speech  seeming 
gifts  only  possible  of  attainment  through  familiarity 
with  foreign  courts  and  effete  civilizations.  When  he 
was  asked  how  he  liked  Washington,  if  he  intended  to 
spend  the  season  with  his  relations,  if  he  had  made 
many  calls,  and  if  the  day  did  not  seem  to  be  an  un- 
usually gay  one,  he  accomplished  the  feat  of  answering 
each  question,  even  adding  an  original  remark  or  so  of 
his  own.  The  conversation  seemed  to  assume  a  tone 
of  almost  feverish  brilliancy  in  view  of  the  social 
atmosphere  surrounding  these  queries.  When  he  was 
led  into  the  adjoining  room  to  partake  of  refreshments 
he  ate  his  lobster-salad  with  an  honest  young  appetite, 
much  aided  by  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre  gave  him 
his  coffee,  and,  taking  a  cup  herself,  sat  down  by  him 
on  a  sofa.  As  he  watched  her,  Arbuthnot  was  thinking 
her  manner  very  soft  and  pretty,  and,  inspired  by  it,  his 
own  became  all  that  could  be  desired  in  the  way  of 
dexterity  and  tact.  As  he  exercised  himself  in  his 
entertainment,  his  first  objections  to  the  boy  gradually 
vanished ;  he  plied  him  with  refreshments,  and  encour- 
aged him  to  renewed  conversational  effort,  deriving 
finally  some  satisfaction  from  finding  himself  able  to 
bring  to  bear  upon  him  with  successful  results  his  neatly 
arranged  and  classified  social  gifts.  When  the  young 
Bartletts  —  who  had  been  enjoy  ing  themselves  immensely 
in  the  next  room  —  suddenly  remembered  their  charge, 
and  came  in  search  of  him,  their  frank  countenances 
expressed  some  surprise  at  the  position  they  found  him 
occupying.  He  was  relating  with  some  spirit  the  story 
of  a  boat-race,  and  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  who  sat  at  his  side, 
was  listening  with  the  most  perfect  air  of  attention  and 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  245 

pleasure,  while  Arbuthnot  stood  near,  apparently  bent 
upon  losing  nothing  of  the  history.  He  ended  the 
story  with  some  natural  precipitation  and  rose  to  go, 
a  trifle  of  his  embarrassment  returning  as  he  found  him- 
self once  more,  as  it  were,  exposed  to  the  glare  of  day. 
He  was  not  quite  sure  what  conventionality  demanded 
of  him  in  the  way  of  adieus  ;  but  when  Mrs.  Sylvestro 
relieved  him  by  extending  her  hand,  nature  got  the 
better  of  him,  and  he  seized  it  with  ardor. 

"  I've  had  a  splendid  time,"  he  said,  blushing.  "  This 
is  the  nicest  reception  I've  been  to  yet.  The  house  is 
so  pretty  and  —  and  everything.  I  was  thinking  I 
shouldn't  go  anywhere  else ;  but  I  believe  I  shall 
now." 

When  he  shook  hands  with  Arbuthuot  he  regarded  him 
with  admiration  and  awe. 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,"  he  said,  his  vague  sense 
of  indebtedness  taking  form.  "If  you  ever  come  tc 
Whippleville  I'm  sure  my  father  would  like  to  —  to  see 
you." 

And  he  retired  with  his  young  relatives,  blushing  still, 
and  occasionally  treading  on  their  feet,  but  his  modesty, 
notwithstanding,  bearing  with  him  an  inoffensive  air  of 
self-respect,  which  would  be  more  than  likely  to  last  him 
through  the  day,  and  perhaps  a  little  beyond  it. 

Mrs.  Sylvestre's  eyes  met  Arbuthnot's  when  he  was 
gone. 

"  You  were  very  kind  to  him,"  she  said. 

"I  am  obliged  to  confess,"  he  replied,  "that  it  was 
nothing  but  the  low  promptings  of  vanity  which  inspired 
me.  It  dawned  upon  me  that  he  was  impressed  by  my 
superior  ease  and  elegance .  and  I  seized  the  opportunity 
of  exhibiting  them." 

"You  knew  just  what  to  say  to  him,"  she  added. 

"That,"  he  replied,  "was  entirely  owing  to  the  fact 
that  I  was  a  boy  myself  in  the  early  part  of  the  last 
century." 

*  He  was  an   appreciative   boy,"  she  said,  "  and  a 


246  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

grateful  one ;  but  I  am  sure  I  could  not  have  made  hiia 
comfortable  if  you  had  not  been  so  kind." 

And  she  once  again  bestowed  upon  him  the  subtle 
flattery  of  appearing  to  lose  herself  an  instant  in  reflec- 
tion upon  him. 

There  were  no  more  callers  after  this.  Later  on  an 
unconventional  little  dinner  was  served,  during  which 
Mrs.  Sylvestre  was  placed  between  Arbuthnot  and  Tre- 
dennis,  Planefield  loomed  up  massive  and  florid  at  Ber- 
tha's side,  and  Richard  devoted  himself  with  delightful 
ardor  to  discussing  French  politics  with  the  young 
woman  who  fell  to  his  share. 

This  young  woman,  whose  attire  was  perfect  and 
whose  manner  was  admirable,  and  who  was  furthermore 
endowed  with  a  piquant,  irregular  face  and  a  captivating 
voice,  had  attracted  Tredennis's  attention  early  in  the 
evening.  She  had  been  talking  to  Eichard  when  he  had 
seen  her  first,  and  she  had  been  talking  to  Richard 
at  intervals  ever  since,  and  evidently  talking  very 
well. 

"  I  don't  know  your  friend,"  he  said  to  Bertha,  after 
dinner,  "  and  I  did  not  hear  her  name  when  I  was  pre- 
sented." 

"  Then  you  have  hitherto  lived  in  vain,"  said  Bertha, 
glancing  at  her.  w  That  is  what  Richard  would  tell  you. 
Her  name  is  Helen  Varien." 

"It  is  a  very  pretty  name,"  remarked  Tredennis. 

"  Ah  I  "  said  Bertha.  "  You  certainly  might  trust  her 
not  to  have  an  ugly  one.  She  has  attained  that  state  of 
finish  in  the  matter  of  her  appendages  which  insures  her 
being  invariably  to  be  relied  on.  I  think  she  must 
even  have  invented  her  relatives  —  or  have  ordered 
them,  giving  carte  blanche" 

She  watched  her  a  moment  with  a  smile  of  interest. 

"  Do  you  see  how  her  sleeves  fit  ?  "  she  asked.  tf  It 
was  her  sleeves  which  first  attracted  my  attention.  I 
saw  them  at  a  luncheon  in  New  York,  and  they  gave  me 
new  theories  of  life.  When  a  woman  can  accomplish 


THKOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  247 

sleeves  like  those,  society  need  ask  nothing  further  oi 
her." 

Tredennis  glanced  down  at  her  own. 

"Have  you  accomplished " —  he  suggested. 

"In  moments  of  rashness  and  folly,"  she  answered, 
*  I  have  occasionally  been  betrayed  into  being  proud  of 
my  sleeves  ;  but  now  I  realize  that  the  feeling  was  simply 
impious." 

He  waited  with  grim  patience  until  she  had  finished, 
and  then  turned  his  back  upon  Miss  Varien's  sleeves. 

w  Will  you  tell  me  about  Janey  ?  "  he  said. 

"  When  last  I  saw  her,  which  was  this  morning,"  she 
replied,  "  she  was  as  well  as  usual,  and  so  were  the 
others.  Now  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  all  in 
bed." 

"May  I  come  and  see  them  to-morrow,  or  the  day 
after?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "And  at  anytime.  I  hope 
you  will  come  often.  Mrs.  Sylvestre  will  be  with  me 
antil  her  house  is  ready  for  her,  and,  as  I  said  before, 
[  wish  you  to  know  her  well." 

"  I  shall  feel  it  a  great  privilege,"  he  responded. 

She  leaned  back  a  little  in  her  chair,  and  regarded 
her  with  an  expression  of  interest  even  greater  than  she 
had  been  aroused  to  by  the  contemplation  of  Miss 
Varien's  sleeves. 

"  Have  you  found  out  yet,"  she  inquired,  "  what  her 
greatest  charm  is?" 

"  Is  it  by  any  chance  a  matter  of  sleeves  ?"  he  asked ; 
and  he  made  the  suggestion  stolidly. 

"No,"  she  answered,  "it  is  not  sleeves.  One's  diffi- 
culty is  to  decide  what  it  is.  A  week  ago  I  thought  it 
was  her  voice.  Yesterday  I  was  sure  it  was  her  eje- 
lashes  and  the  soft  shadow  they  make  about  her  eyes. 
About  an  hour  ago  I  was  convinced  it  was  hei  smile, 
and  now  I  think  it  must  be  her  power  of  fixing  her  at« 
tention  upon  you.  See  how  it  flatters  Mr.  Arbuthnot, 
and  how,  though  he  is  conscious  of  his  weakness,  ha 


248  THltOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

succumbs  to  it.  It  will  be  very  pleasant  occupation 
i luring  the  winter  to  watch  his  struggles." 

"Will  he  struggle?"  said  Tredennis,  still  immova- 
bly, "I  don't  think  I  would  in  his  place." 

w  Oh,  no,"  she  answered.     "  You  mustn't  struggle." 

"  I  will  not,"  he  returned. 

She  went  on  with  a  smile,  as  if  he  had  spoken  in  the 
ajost  responsive  manner  possible. 

"  Mr.  Arbuthnot's  struggles  will  not  be  of  the  usual 
order,"  she  remarked.  "  He  will  not  be  struggling  with 
his  emotions,  but  with  his  vanity.  He  knows  that  she 
will  not  fall  in  love  with  him,  and  he  has  no  intention  of 
falling  in  love  with  her.  He  knows  better  —  and  he 
does  not  like  affairs.  But  he  will  find  that  she  is  able  to 
do  things  which  will  natter  him,  and  that  it  will  require 
all  his  self-control  to  refrain  from  displaying  his  mascu- 
line delight  in  himself  and  the  good-fortune  which  h'3 
has  the  secret  anguish  of  knowing  does  not  depend  upon 
his  merits.  And  his  struggles  at  a  decently  composed 
demeanor,  entirely  untinged  by  weak  demonstrations  of 
pleasure  or  consciousness  of  himself,  will  be  a  very  edi- 
fying spectacle." 

She  turned  her  glance  from  Arbuthnot  and  Mrs. 
Sylvestre,  whom  she  had  been  watching  as  she  spoke, 
and  looked  up  at  Tredennis.  She  did  so  because  he 
had  made  a  rather  sudden  movement,  and  placed  himself 
iir.mediately  before  her. 

"'  Bertha,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  away." 

Her  Jacqueminot  roses  had  been  lying  upon  her  lap. 
She  picked  them  up  before  she  answered  him. 

"  You  have  made  too  many  calls,"  she  said.  "  You 
are  tired." 

w  I  have  not  made  too  many  calls,"  he  replied ;  w  but  I 
am  tired.  I  am  tired  of  this." 

WI  was  afraid  you  were,"  she  said,  and  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  roses. 

ff  You  were  very  fair  to  me,"  he  said,  w  and  you  gave 
me  warning.  I  told  you  I  should  not  profit  by  it,  and 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  249 

I  did  not.  I  don't  know  what  I  expected  when  1  came 
here  to-day,  but  it  was  not  exactly  this.  You  are  too 
agile  for  me  ;  I  cannot  keep  up  with  you." 

"You  are  not  modern,"  she  said.  "You  must  learn 
to  adjust  youi 'self  rapidly  to  changes  of  mental  atti- 
tude." 

"  No,  I  am  not  modern,"  he  returned  ;  "  and  I  am  al- 
ways behindhand.  I  do  not  enjoy  myself  when  you  tell 
me  it  is  a  fine  day,  and  that  it  was  colder  yesterday,  and 
will  be  warmer  to-morrow ;  and  I  am  at  a  loss  when  you 
analyze  Mr.  Arbuthnot's  struggles  with  his  vanity." 

"I  am  not  serious  enough,"  she  interrupted.  "You 
would  prefer  that  I  should  be  more  serious." 

w  It  would  avail  me  but  little  to  tell  you  what  I  should 
prefer,"  he  said,  obstinately.  "  I  will  tell  you  a  simple 
thing  before  I  go,  —  all  this  counts  for  nothing." 

She  moved  slightly. 

"All  this,"  she  repeated,  "counts  for  nothing. 

"  For  nothing,"  he  repeated.  f?  You  cannot  change 
me.  I  told  you  that.  You  may  give  me  some  sharp 
wounds,  —  I  know  you  won't  spare  those,  —  and  because 
I  am  only  a  man  I  shall  show  that  I  smart  under  them ; 
but  they  will  not  move  me  otherwise.  Be  as  frivolous  as 
you  like,  mock  at  everything  human  if  you  choose  ;  but 
don't  expect  me  to  believe  you." 

She  put  the  flowers  to  her  face  and  held  them  there  a 
second. 

"The  one  thing  I  should  warn  you  against,"  she  said, 
"would  be  against  believing  me.  I  don't  make  the  mis- 
take of  believing  myself." 

She  put  the  flowers  down. 

"You  think  I  am  trying  to  deceive  you,"  she  said. 
"There  would  have  to  be  a  reason  for  my  doing  it. 
What  should  you  think  would  be  the  reason  ?  " 

"  So  help  me  God  !  "  he  answered,  "  I  don't  know." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  she  said. 

Then  she  glanced  about  her  over  the  room,  —  at  Plane- 
field,  rather  restively  professing  to  occupy  himself  with 


250  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

a  pretty  girl;  at  Miss  Varien,  turned  a  trifle  sidewis* 
in  her  large  chair  so  that  her  beautiful  sleeve  was  dis- 
played to  the  most  perfect  advantage,  and  her  vivacious 
face  was  a  little  uplifted  as  she  spoke  to  Kichard,  who 
leaned  on  the  high  back  of  her  seat ;  at  Arbuthnot, 
talking  to  Agnes  Sylvestre,  and  plainly  at  no  loss  of 
words ;  at  the  lights  and  flowers  and  ornamented  tables 
seen  through  the  portieres,  — and  then  she  spoke  again. 

"I  tell  you,"  she  said,  "it  is  this  that  is  real  —  this. 
The  other  was  only  a  kind  of  dream." 

She  made  a  sudden  movement  and  sat  upright  on  her 
chair,  as  if  she  meant  to  shake  herself  free  from 
something. 

"  There  was  no  other,"  she  said.  "  It  wasn't  even  a 
dream.  There  never  was  anything  but  this." 

She  left  her  chair  and  stood  up  before  him,  smiling. 

"The  sky  was  not  blue,"  she  said,  "nor  the  hills 
purple ;  there  were  no  chestnut  trees,  and  no  carna- 
tions. Let  us  go  and  sit  with  the  rest,  and  listen  to 
Mr.  Arbuthnot  and  admire  Miss  Varien's  sleeves." 

But  he  stood  perfectly  still. 

"I  told  you  I  was  going  away,"  he  said,  "and  I  am 
going.  To-morrow  I  shall  come  and  see  the  children — 
unless  you  tell  me  that  you  do  not  wish  to  see  me 
again." 

"I  shall  not  tell  you  that,"  she  returned,  "because  it 
would  be  at  once  uncivil  and  untrue." 

"Then  I  shall  come,"  he  said. 

"  That  will  be  kind  of  you,"  she  responded,  and  gave 
him  her  hand,  and  after  he  had  made  his  bow  over  it, 
and  his  adieus  to  the  rest  of  the  company,  he  left  them. 

Bertha  crossed  the  room  and  stood  near  the  fire, 
putting  one  foot  on  the  fender,  and  shivering  a  little. 

"  Are  you  cold?"  asked  Miss  Varien. 

"Yes  —  no,"  she  answered.  "If  I  did  not  know 
better,  I  should  think  I  was." 

"Allow  me,"  said  Miss  Varien,  "to  make  the  cheer- 
ful suggestion  that  that  sounds  quite  like  malaria." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  251 

Thank  you,"  said  Bertha;  "that  seems  plausible, 
and  I  don't  rebel  against  it.  It  has  an  air  of  dealing 
with  glittering  generalities,  and  yet  it  seems  to  dec  id* 
matters  for  one.  We  will  call  it  malaria." 


252  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXH. 

THE  room  which  Mrs.  Sylvestre  occupied  in  hei 
fiiend's  house  was  a  very  pretty  one.  It  had  been  one 
of  Mrs.  Amory's  caprices  at  the  time  she  had  fitted  it 
up,  and  she  had  amused  herself  with  it  for  two  or  three 
months,  arranging  it  at  her  leisure,  reflecting  upon  it, 
and  making  additions  to  its  charms  every  day  as  soon  as 
they  suggested  themselves  to  her. 

"  It  is  to  be  a  purely  feminine  apartment,"  she  had 
said  to  Richard  and  Arbuthnot.  "And  I  have  a  senti- 
ment about  it.  When  it  is  complete  you  shall  go  and 
stand  outside  the  door  and  look  in,  but  nothing  would 
induce  me  to  allow  you  to  cross  the  threshold." 

When  this  moment  had  arrived,  and  they  had  been 
admitted  to  the  private  view  from  the  corridor,  they 
had  evidently  been  somewhat  impressed. 

"It  is  very  pretty,"  Mr.  Arbuthnot  had ' remarked , 
with  amiable  tolerance  ;  "  but  I  don't  approve  of  it.  Its 
object  is  plainly  to  pamper  and  foster  those  tendencies 
of  the  feminine  temperament  which  are  most  prominent 
and  least  desirable.  Nothing  could  be  more  apparent 
than  its  intention  to  pander  to  a  taste  for  luxury  and 
self-indulgence,  combined  in  the  most  shameless  manner 
with  vanity  and  lightness  of  mind.  It  will  be  becoming 
to  the  frivolous  creatures,  and  will  exalt  and  inflate  them 
to  that  extent  that  they  will  spend  the  greater  portion 
of  their  time  in  it,  utterly  ignoring  the  superior  oppor- 
tunities for  cultivating  and  improving  their  minds  they 
might  enjoy  downstairs  on  occasions  when  Richard  re- 
mains at  home,  and  my  own  multifarious  duties  permit 
me  to  drop  in.  It  strikes  me  as  offering  a  premium  to 
feminine  depiavity  and  crime.'' 

w  That  expresses  it  exactly,"  agreed  Richard. 

Arbuthnot  turned  him  round. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

wWi!l  you,"  he  said,  "kindly  give  your  attention  to 
the  length  and  position  of  that  mirror,  and  the  peculiar 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  the  fact  that  the  light 
falls  upon  it  from  that  particular  point,  and  that  its 
effects  are  softened  by  the  lace  draperies  and  sugges- 
tions of  pink  and  blue?  The  pink  and  blue  idea  is 
merely  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest,  and  is  prompted  by 
the  artfulness  of  the  serpent.  If  it  had  been  all  pink 
the  blondes  would  have  suffered,  and  if  it  had  been  all 
blue  the  brunettes  would  have  felt  that  they  were  not 
at  their  best ;  this  ineffably  wily  combination,  however, 
truckles  to  either,  and  intimates  that  each  combines  the 
attractions  of  both.  Take  me  away,  Richard  ;  it  is  not 
for  the  ingenuous  and  serious  mind  to  view  such  spec- 
tacles as  these.  Take  me  away,  — first,  however,  making 
a  mental  inventory  of  the  entirely  debasing  sofas  and 
chairs  and  the  flagrant  and  openly  sentimental  nature 
of  the  pictures,  all  depicting  or  insinuating  the  drivelling 
imbecility  and  slavery  of  man, — e  The  Huguenot  Lovers,' 
you  observe,  'The  Black  Brunswicker,'  and  others  of 
like  nature." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  had  thought  the  room  very  pretty  in- 
deed when  she  had  first  taken  possession  of  it,  and  its 
prettiness  and  comfort  impressed  her  anew  when,  the 
excitement  of  the  New  Year's  day  at  last  at  an  end,  she 
retired  to  it  for  the  night. 

When  she  found  herself  within  the  closed  doors  she 
did  not  go  to  bed  at  once.  Too  many  impressions  had 
been  crowded  into  the  last  ten  hours  to  have  left  her  in 
an  entirely  reposeful  condition  of  mind  and  body,  and, 
though  of  too  calm  a  temperament  for  actual  excitement, 
she  was  still  not  inclined  to  sleep. 

So,  having  partly  undressed  and  thrown  on  a  loose 
wrap,  she  turned  down  the  light  and  went  to  the  fire. 
It  was  an  open  wood-fire,  and  burned  cheerily  behind  a 
brass  fender ;  a  large  rug  of  white  fur  was  spread  upon 
the  hearth  before  it ;  a  low,  broad  sofa,  luxurious  with 
cushions,  was  drawn  up  at  one  side  of  it,  and  upon  the 


254  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

rug,  at  the  other,  stood  a  deep  easy-chair.  It  was  this 
chair  she  took,  and,  having  taken  it,  she  glanced  up  at  an 
oval  mirror  which  was  among  the  ornaments  on  the  op- 
posite  wall.  In  it  she  saw  reflected  that  portion  of  the 
room  which  seemed  to  have  arranged  itself  about  her 
own  graceful  figure,  —  the  faint  pinks  and  blues,  tho 
flowered  drapery,  the  puffed  and  padded  furniture,  and 
the  hundred  and  one  entirely  feminine  devices  of  orna- 
mentation ;  and  she  was  faintly  aware  that  an  expression 
less  thoughtful  than  the  one  she  .wore  would  have  been 
more  in  keeping  with  her  surroundings. 

"I  look  too  serious  to  harmonize,"  she  said.  fflf 
Bertha  were  here  she  would  detect  the  incongruity  and 
deplore  it." 

But  she  was  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  which  was  not  an 
uncommon  experience  with  her,  and  the  faint  smile  the 
words  gave  rise  to  died  away  as  she  turned  to  the  fire 
again.  What  she  thought  of  as  she  sat  and  looked  into 
it,  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  tell ;  but  there  was 
evidence  that  she  was  mentally  well  occupied  in  the  fact 
that  she  sat  entirely  still  and  gazed  at  its  flickering 
flame  for  nearly  half  an  hour.  She  would  not  have 
moved  then,  perhaps,  if  she  had  not  been  roused  from 
her  reverie  by  a  sound  at  the  door,  —  a  low  knock,  and 
a  voice  speaking  to  her. 

"  Agnes  ! "  it  said.     "  Agnes  ! " 

She  knew  it  at  once  as  Bertha's,  and  rose  to  reply  to 
the  summons  almost  a^  if  she  had  expected  or  even  waited 
for  it.  When  she  unlocked  the  door,  and  opened  it, 
Bertha  was  standing  on  the  threshold.  She  had  partly 
rndressed,  too.  She  had  laid  aside  the  red  dress,  and 
put  on  a  long  white  negligee,  bordered  with  white  fur ; 
there  was  no  color  about  her,  and  it  made  her  look  cold. 
Perhaps  she  was  cold,  for  Agnes  thought  she  seemed  to 
shiver  a  little. 

"May  I  come  in?"  she  asked.  "I  know  it  is  very 
inconsiderate,  but  I  had  a  sort  of  conviction  that  you 
would  not  be  asleep." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  255 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  going  to  sleep  yet,"  said 
Agnes.  "I  am  glad  you  have  come." 

Bertha  entered,  and,  the  door  being  closed,  crossed 
the  room  to  the  fire.  She  did  not  take  a  chair,  but  sat 
down  upon  the  hearth-rug. 

"This  is  very  feminine,"  she  said,  "and  we  ought  to 
be  in  bed ;  but  the  day  would  not  be  complete  without 
it." 

Then  she  turned  toward  Agnes. 

"  You  must  have  a  great  deal  to  think  of  to-night," 
she  said. 

Agnes  Sylvestre  looked  at  the  fire. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "I  have  a  great  deal  to  think 
of." 

"  Are  they  things  you  like  to  think  of?  " 

"  Some  of  them  —  not  all." 

"It  must  be  a  curious  experience,"  said  Bertha,  "to 
find  yourself  here  again  after  so  many  years  —  with  all 
your  life  changed  for  you." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  did  not  reply. 

"You  have  not  been  here,"  Bertha  continued,  "since 
you  went  away  on  your  wedding  journey.  You  were 
nineteen  or  twenty  then,  —  only  a  girl." 

"I  was  young,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  "but  I  was 
rather  mature  for  my  years.  I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  was 
exactly  a  girl." 

Then  she  added,  in  a  lower  voice : 

"I  had  experienced  something  which  had  ripened 
me." 

"  You  mean,"  said  Bertha,  "  that  you  knew  what  love 
was." 

She  had  not  intended  to  say  the  words,  and  their  ab- 
mpt  directness  grated  upon  her  as  she  spoke ;  but  she 
could  not  have  avoided  uttering  them. 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  paused  a  moment. 

"The  experience  I  passed  through,"  she  said,  "did 
not  belong  to  my  age.  It  was  not  a  girPs  feelings.  I 
think  it  came  too  soon." 


256  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATIONS 

"You  had  two  alternatives  to  choose  from,"  said 
Bertha,  —  "that  it  should  come  too  soon  or  too  late." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  paused  again. 

"  You  do  not  think,"  she  said,  "  that  it  ever  comes  to 
any  one  at  the  right  time  ?  " 

Bertha  had  been  sitting  with  her  hands  folded  about 
her  knee.  She  unclasped  and  clasped  them  with  a  sharply 
vehement  movement. 

"  It  is  a  false  thing  from  beginning  to  end,"  she  said. 
"  I  do  not  believe  in  it." 

"Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  softly,  "I  believe  it.  I 
wish  I  did  not." 

"  What  is  there  to  be  gained  by  it  ?  "  said  Bertha ;  "  a 
feeling  that  is  not  to  be  reasoned  about  or  controlled ; 
a  miserable,  feverish  emotion  you  cannot  understand, 
and  can  only  resent  and  struggle  against  blindly.  When 
you  let  it  conquer  you,  how  can  you  respect  yourself  or 
the  object  of  it?  What  do  women  love  men  for  ?  Who 
knows?  It  is  like  madness!  All  you  can  say  is,  'I 
love  him.  He  is  life  or  death  to  me.'  It  is  so  unrea- 
soning—  so  unreasoning." 

She  stopped  suddenly,  as  if  all  at  once  she  became 
conscious  that  her  companion  was  looking  at  herself 
instead  of  at  the  fire. 

"  You  love  a  man  generally,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  in 
her  tenderly  modulated  voice, —  "  at  least  I  have  thought 
so,  —  because  he  is  the  one  human  creature  who  is 
capable  of  causing  you  the  greatest  amount  of  suffering. 
I  don't  know  of  any  other  reason,  and  I  have  thought 
of  it  a  great  deal." 

"  It  is  a  good  reason,"  said  Bertha,  —  "a  good  reason.' 

Then  she  laughed. 

"  This  is  just  a  little  tragic,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  said.  "  What 
a  delightfully  emotional  condition  we  must  be  in  to  have 
reached  tragedy  in  less  than  five  minutes,  and  entirely 
without  intention  I  I  did  not  come  to  be  tragic  ;  I  came 
to  be  analytical.  I  want  you  to  tell  me  carefully  how 
we  strike  you." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  257 

"We?"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre. 

Bertha  touched  herself  on  the  breast. 

"  We,"  she  said,  —  "I,  Richard,  Laurence  Arbuthnot, 
Colonel  Tredennis,  Senator  Planefield,  the  two  hundred 
men  callers, —  "Washington,  in  short.  How  does  Wash- 
ington strike  you,  now  that  you  have  come  to  it  again  ?  " 

"  Won't  you  give  me  two  weeks  to  reflect  upon  it  ?  " 
said  Agnes. 

"No.  I  want  impressions,  not  reflections.  Is  it  all 
very  much  changed?" 

"  I  am  very  much  changed,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  we?  "said  Bertha.  "Suppose — suppose  you 
begin  with  Laurence  Arbuthnot." 

"  I  do  not  think  I  could.  He  is  not  one  of  the  per- 
sons  I  have  remembered." 

"Agnes,"  said  Bertha,  "only  wait  with  patience  for 
one  of  those  occasions  when  you  feel  it  necessary  to 
efface  him,  and  then  tell  him  that,  in  exactly  that  tone 
of  voice,  and  he  will  in  that  instant  secretly  atone  for 
the  crimes  of  a  lifetime.  He  won't  wince,  and  he  will 
probably  reply  in  the  most  brilliant  and  impersonal 
manner ;  but,  figuratively  speaking,  you  will  have  re 
duced  him  to  powder  and  cast  him  to  the  breeze." 

"  We  shall  not  be  sufficiently  intimate  to  render  such 
a  thing  possible,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  "One  must  be 
intimate  with  a  man  to  be  angry  enough  with  him  to 
wish  to  avenge  one's  self." 

Bertha  smiled. 

"  You  don't  like  him,"  she  said.     "  Poor  Larry  ! " 

"  On  the  contrary,"  was  her  friend's  reply.  "  But  it 
would  not  occur  to  me  to  '  begin  with  him,'  as  yrrc  sug- 
gested just  now." 

"  With    whom,   then,"   said    Bertha,   *  would    yoa 


Her  guest  gave  a  moment  to  reflection,  during  which 
Bertha  regarded  her  intently. 

"If  I  were  going  to  begin  at  all,"  she  said,  raiher 
slowly,  "I  think  it  would  be  with  Colonel  Tredennia." 


258  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  then  Berth* 
spoke,  in  a  somewhat  cold  and  rigid  voice, 

"  What  do  you  like  about  him  ?  "  she  asked. 

"I  think  I  like  everything." 

"If  you  were  any  one  else,"  said  Bertha,  "I  should 
say  that  you  simply  like  his  size.  I  think  that  is  gener- 
ally it.  Women  invariably  fall  victims  to  men  who  are 
big  and  a  little  lumbering.  They  like  to  persuade  them- 
selves that  they  are  overawed  and  subjected.  I  never 
understood  it  myself.  Big  men  never  pleased  me  very 
much  —  they  are  so  apt  to  tread  on  you." 

"  I  like  his  eyes,"  said  Agnes,  apparently  reflecting 
aloud  :  "  they  are  very  kind.  And  I  like  his  voice" — 

"  It  is  rather  too  deep,"  remarked  Bertha,  "  and  some- 
times I  am  a  little  afraid  it  will  degenerate  into  a  growl, 
though  I  have  never  heard  it  do  so  yet." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  went  on : 

"  When  he  bends  his  head  a  little  and  looks  down  at 
you  as  you  talk,"  she  said,  "  he  is  very  nice.  He  is 
really  thinking  of  you  and  regarding  you  seriously.  I 
do  not  think  he  is  given  to  trifling." 

"  No,"  returned  Bertha ;  "  I  do  not  think  he  is  given 
to  anything  special  but  being  massive.  That  is  what 
you  are  thinking, — that  he  is  massive." 

"  There  is  no  denying,"  said  her  friend,  "  that  that  is 
one  of  the  things  I  like." 

"Ah! "said  Bertha,  "you  find  the  rest  of  us  very 
flippant  and  trivial.  TJiat  is  how  we  strike  you  !  " 

A  fatigued  little  sigh  escaped  her  lips. 

"After  all,"  she  said,  "it  is  true.  And  we  have 
obliged  ourselves  to  be  trivial  for  so  long  that  we  aie 
incapable  of  seriousness.  Sometimes — generally  toward 
Lent,  after  I  have  been  out  a  great  deal  —  I  wonder  if 
the  other  would  not  be  interesting  for  a  change ;  but, 
at  the  same  time,  I  know  I  could  not  be  serious  if  1 
tried." 

"Your  seriousness  will  be  deeper,"  said  Mrs. 
,  "when  you  accomplish  it  without  trying." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  259 

She  was  serious  herself  as  she  spoke,  but  her  seri 
ousness  was  extremely  gentle.     She  looked  at  Bertha 
even  tenderly,  and  her  clear  eyes  were  very  expressive, 

ft  We  are  both  changed  since  we  met  here  last,"  she 
said,  with  simple  directness,  "  and  it  is  only  natural  that 
what  we  have  lived  through  should  have  affected  us 
differently.  We  are  of  very  different  temperaments. 
You  were  always  more  vivid  and  intense  than  I,  and 
suffering  —  if  you  had  suffered  "  — 
•  Her  soft  voice  faltered  a  little,  and  she  paused. 
Bertha  turned  and  looked  her  unflinchingly  in  the  face. 

"I  —  have  not  suffered,"  she  said. 

Agnes  spoke  as  simply  as  before. 

"I  have,"  she  said. 

Bertha  turned  sharply  away. 

"I  was  afraid  so,"  was  her  response. 

"  If  we  are  to  be  as  near  to  each  other  as  I  hope," 
Agnes  continued,  "  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to  try  to 
conceal  from  you  the  one  thing  which  has  made  me 
what  I  am.  The  effort  to  hide  it  would  always  stand 
between  us  and  our  confidence  in  each  other.  It  is 
much  simpler  to  let  you  know  the  truth." 

She  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face  an  instant,  and 
Bertha  broke  the  silence  with  a  curiously  incisive  ques- 
tion. 

"Was  he  very  cruel  to  you?" 

Agnes  withdrew  her  hands,  and  if  her  shadow  of  a 
smile  had  not  been  so  infinitely  sad,  it  would  have  been 
bitter. 

"  He  could  not  help  it,"  she  said ;  "  and  when  I  was 
calm  enough  to  reason  I  knew  he  was  not  to  blame  for        / 
my  imagination.     It  was  all  over  in  a  few  months,  and      + 
ae  would  have  been  quite  content  to  bear  what  followed 
philosophically.     When  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he 
told  me  that  he  had  known  it  could  not  last,  because 
such  things  never  did ;  but  that  he  had  also  known  that, 
even  after  the  inevitable  termination,  I  should  always 
please  him   and   display   good   taste.      He   had   lived 


260  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

through  so  much,  and  I  had  known  so  little.  I  onlj 
spoke  openly  to  him  once,  —  one  awful  day,  and  aftei 
that  I  scarcely  know  what  happened  to  me  for  months. 
I  asked  him  to  let  me  go  away  alone,  and  I  went  to  the 
sea-side.  Since  then  the  sound  of  the  sea  has  been  a 
terror  to  me,  and  yet  there  are  times  when  I  long  to 
hear  it.  I  used  to  tell  myself  that,  on  one  of  those  days 
when  I  sat  on  the  sand  and  looked  at  the  sea,  I  died, 
and  that  I  have  never  really  lived  since.  Someth ing  hap- 
pened to  me  —  I  don't  know  what.  It  was  one  brilliant 
morning,  when  the  sun  beat  on  the  blue  wTater  and  the 
white  sand,  and  everything  was  a  dazzling  glare.  I  sat 
on  the  beach  for  hours  without  moving,  and  when  I  got 
up  and  walked  away  I  remember  hearing  myself  saying, 
*  I  have  left  you  behind,  —  I  have  left  you  behind,  —  I 
shall  never  see  you  again.'  I  was  ill  for  several  days 
afterward,  and  when  I  recovered  I  seemed  to  have  be- 
come a  new  creature.  When  my  husband  came  I  was 
able  to  meet  him  so  calmly  that  I  think  it  was  even  a 
kind  of  shock  to  him." 

"  And  that  was  the  end  ?  "  said  Bertha. 

"  Yes,  that  was  the  end  —  for  me." 

"And  for  him?" 

"  Once  or  twice  afterward  it  interested  him  to  try  ex- 
periments with  me,  and  when  they  failed  he  was  not 
pleased." 

"  Were  you  never  afraid,"  said  Bertha,  "  that  they 
would  not  fail?" 

"  No.  There  is  nothing  so  final  as  the  ending  of  such 
a  feeling.  There  is  nothing  to  come  after  it,  because  it 
has  taken  everything  with  it,  —  passion,  bitterness,  sor- 
row, —  even  regret.  I  never  wished  that  it  might  re- 
turn after  the  day  I  spoke  of.  I  have  thought  if,  by 
stretching  forth  my  hand,  I  could  have  brought  it  all 
back  just  as  it  was  at  first,  I  should  not  have  wished  to 
do  it.  It  had  been  too  much." 

"It  is  a  false  thing,"  said  Bertha,  —  "a  false  thing, 
and  there  must  always  be  some  such  end  to  it." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  261 

Agnes  Sylvestre  was  silent  again,  and  because  of  hei 
silence  Bertha  repeated  her  words  with  feverish  eager  ness. 

"It  must  always  end  so,"  she  said. 

w  You  know  that  —  you  must  know  it." 

"  I  am  only  one  person,"  was  the  characteristic  answer. 
w  And  I  do  not  know.  I  do  not  want  to  know.  I  only 
want  quiet  now.  I  have  learned  enough." 

"Agnes,"  said  Bertha,  "that  is  very  pathetic." 

"Yes,"  Agnes  answered.  "I  know  it  is  pathetic, 
when  I  allow  myself  to  think  of  it."  And  for  the  first 
time  her  voice  broke  a  little,  and  was  all  the  sweeter  for 
the  break  in  it.  But  it  was  over  in  a  moment,  and  she 
spoke  as  she  had  spoken  before. 

"  But  I  did  not  mean  to  be  pathetic,"  she  said.  "  I 
only  wanted  to  tell  you  the  entire  truth,  so  that  there 
should  be  nothing  between  us,  and  nothing  to  avoid. 
There  can  be  nothing  now.  You  know  of  me  all  that 
i-  past,  and  you  can  guess  what  is  to  come." 

"No,  I  cannot  do  that,"  said  Bertha. 

Agnes  smiled. 

w  It  is  very  easy,"  she  responded.  "  I  shall  have  a 
pretty  house,  and  I  shall  amuse  myself  by  buying  new 
or  old  things  for  it,  and  by  moving  the  furniture.  I 
shall  give  so  much  thought  to  it  that  after  a  while  it 
will  be  quite  celebrated,  in  a  small  way,  and  Miss  Jessup 
will  refer  to  it  as  '  unique.'  Mrs.  Merriam  will  be  with 
me,  and  I  shall  have  my  reception  day,  and  perhaps  my 
'evening,'  and  I  shall  see  as  many  of  the  charming 
people  who  come  to  Washington  as  is  possible.  You 
will  be  very  good  to  me,  and  come  to  see  me  often, 
and  —  so  I  hope  will  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  and  Colonel 
Trcdennis  "  — 

"  Agnes,"  interposed  Bertha,  with  an  oddly  hard 
manner,  "  if  they  do,  one  or  both  of  them  will  full  in 
love  with  you." 

"If  it  is  either,"  responded  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  serenely, 
*  I  hope  it  will  be  Mr.  Arbuthnot,  as  he  would  have 
less  difficulty  in  recovering." 


262  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"You  think,"  said  Bertha,  "that  nothing  could  evei 
touch  you  again,  —  nothing?  " 

"  Think  !  "  was  the  response  ;  "  my  safety  lies  in  the 
fact  that  1  do  not  think  of  it  at  all.  If  I  were  twenty 
I  might  do  so,  and  everything  would  be  different.  Life 
is  very  short.  It  is  not  long  enough  to  run  risks  in.  I 
shall  not  trifle  with  what  is  left  to  me." 

"Oh,"  cried  Bertha,  "how  calm  you  are  —  how  calm 
you  are ! " 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  am  calm  now." 

But  she  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face  again  for  an 
instant,  and  her  eyelashes  were  wet  when  she  withdrew 
them. 

"It  was  a  horribly  dangerous  thing,"  she  said, 
brokenly.  "  There  were  so  many  temptations ;  the 
temptation  to  find  excitement  in  avenging  myself  on 
others  was  strongest  of  all.  I  suppose  it  is  the 
natural  savage  impulse.  There  were  times  when  I 
longed  to  be  cruel.  And  then  I  began  to  think  —  and 
there  seemed  so  much  suffering  in  life  —  and  everything 
seemed  so  pitiful.  And  I  could  not  bear  the  thought 
of  it."  And  she  ended  with  the  sob  of  a  child. 

"  It  is  very  womanish  to  cry,"  she  whispered,  "  and  I 
did  not  mean  to  do  it,  but  —  you  look  at  me  so."  And 
she  laid  her  cheek  against  the  cushioned  back  of  her 
chair,  and,  for  a  little  while,  was  more  pathetic  in  her 
silence  than  she  could  have  been  in  any  words  she  might 
have  uttered.  It  was  true  that  Bertha  had  looked  at 
her.  There  were  no  tears  in  her  own  eyes.  Her  feel 
ing  was  one  of  obstinate  resistance  to  all  emotion  in  her- 
self ;  but  she  did  not  resent  her  friend's ;  on  the  con- 
trary, she  felt  a  strange  enjoyment  of  it. 

"Don't  stop  crying  because  I  am  here,"  she  said.  "  I 
like  to  see  you  do  it." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  recovered  herself  at  once.  She  sat 
ap,  smiling  a  little.  There  were  no  disfiguring  traces 
of  her  emotion  on  her  fair  face. 

w  Tbank  you,"  she  answered ;   "  but  I  do  not  like  ii 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  263 

myself  so  much,  and  I  have  not  done  it  before  for  a 
long  time." 

It  was,  perhaps,  because  Mr.  Arbuthnot  presented 
himself  as  an  entirely  safe  topic,  with  no  tendency  what- 
ever to  develop  the  sensibilities,  that  she  cho&e  him  as 
the  subject  of  her  next  remarks. 

"I  do  not  see  much  change  in  your  friend,"  she  ob- 
served. 

"If  you  mean  Laurence,"  Bertha  replied,  "I  dare  say 
not.  He  does  not  allow  things  to  happen  to  him.  He 
knows  better." 

"  And  he  has  done  nothing  whatever  during  the  last 
seven  years  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  to  a  great  many  parties,"  said  Bertha, 
"and  he  has  read  a  book  or  so,  and  sung  several 


songs." 


"  I  hope  he  has  sung  them  well,"  was  her  friend'a 
comment. 

"  It  always  depends  upon  his  mood,"  Bertha  returned ; 
but  there  have  been  times  when  he  has  sung  them  very 
•veil  indeed." 

"  It  can  scarcely  have  been  a  great  tax  to  have  done  it 
occasionally,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre ;  "  but  I  should  al- 
ways be  rather  inclined  to  think  it  was  the  result  of 
chance,  and  not  effort.  Still "  —  with  a  sudden  con- 
scientious scruple  brought  about  by  her  recollection  of 
the  fact  that  these  marks  of  disapproval  had  not  ex- 
pressed themselves  in  her  manner  earlier  in  the  day  — 
"  still  he  is  very  agreeable,  one  cannot  deny  that." 

"  It  is  always  safe  not  to  attempt  to  deny  it,  even  if 
you  feel  inclined,"  was  Bertha's  comment,  "because, 
if  you  do,  he  will  inevitably  prove  to  you  that  you  were 
in  the  wrong  before  he  has  done  with  you." 

"He  did  one  thing  I  rather  liked,"  her  companion 
proceeded.  "  He  was  very  nice  —  in  that  peculiar,  im- 
partial way  of  his  —  to  a  boy  "  — 

"The  boy  who  cjme  with  the  Bartletts?"  Bertha 
interposed.  "I  saw  him,  and  was  positively  unhappy 


264  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

about  him,  because  I  could  not  attend  to  him.  Did  h« 
take  him  in  hand?"  she  asked,  brightening  visibly. 
"  I  knew  he  would,  if  he  noticed  him  particularly.  It 
was  just  like  him  to  do  it." 

"  I  saw  him  first,"  Mrs.  Sylvestre  explained  ;  "  but  I 
am  afraid  I  should  not  have  been  equal  to  the  occasion 
if  Mr.  Arbuthnot  had  not  assisted  me.  It  certainly 
surprised  me  that  he  should  do  it.  He  knew  the 
Bartletts,  and  had  met  the  boy's  sister,  and  in  the  most 
wonderful,  yet  the  most  uneffusive  and  natural,  way 
he  utilized  his  material  until  the  boy  felt  himself  quite 
at  home,  and  not  out  of  place  at  all.  One  of  the  nicest 
things  was  the  way  in  which  he  talked  about  Whipple- 
ville,  —  the  boy  came  from  Whippleville.  He  seemed 
to  give  it  a  kind  of  interest  and  importance,  and  even 
picturesqueness.  He  did  not  pretend  to  have  been 
there ;  but  he  knew  something  of  the  country,  which  is 
pretty,  and  he  was  very  clever  in  saying  neither  too 
much  nor  too  little.  Of  course  that  was  nice." 

"  Colonel  Tredennis  could  not  have  done  it,"  said 
Bertha. 

Agnes  paused.  She  felt  there  was  something  of  truth 
in  the  statement,  but  she  was  reluctant  to  admit  it. 

"  Why  not?"  she  inquired. 

"  By  reason  of  the  very  thing  which  is  his  attraction 
for  you,  —  because  he  is  too  massive  to  be  adroit." 

Agnes  was  silent. 

"  Was  it  not  Colonel  Tredennis  who  went  to  Virginia 
when  your  little  girl  was  ill?"  she  asked,  in  a  few 
moments. 

"Yes,"  was  Bertha's  response.  "He  came  because 
Richard  was  away  and  papa  was  ill." 

"It  was  Janey  who  told  me  of  it,"  said  Agnes, 
quietly.  "  And  she  made  a  very  pretty  story  of  it,  in 
her  childish  way.  She  said  that  he  carried  her  up  and 
down  the  room  when  she  was  tired,  and  that  when  her 
head  ached  he  helped  her  not  to  cry.  He  must  be  very 
gentle.  I  like  to  think  of  it  It  is  very  picturesque ; 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

the  idea  of  that  great  soldierly  fellow  nursing  a  frail 
little  creature,  and  making  her  pain  easier  to  bear.  Do 
you  know,  I  find  myself  imagining  that  I  know  how  be 
looked." 

Bertha  sat  perfectly  still.  She,  too,  knew  how  hfc 
had  looked.  But  there  was  no  reason,  she  told  herself, 
for  the  sudden  horrible  revulsion  of  feeling  which  rushed 
upon  hervith  the  remembrance.  A  little  while  before, 
when  Agnes  had  told  her  story,  there  had  been  a  reason 
why  she  should  be  threatened  by  her  emotions ;  but 
now  it  was  different,  —  now  that  there  was,  so  to  speak, 
no  pathos  in  the  air ;  now  that  they  were  merely  talk- 
ing of  commonplace,  unemotional  things.  But  she 
remembered  so  well ;  if  she  could  have  forced  herself 
to  forget  for  one  instant  she  might  have  overcome  the 
passion  of  unreasoning  anguish  which  seized  her ;  but 
it  was  no  use,  and  as  she  made  the  effort  Agnes  sat  and 
watched  her,  a  strange  questioning  dawning  slowly  in 
her  eyes. 

"  He  looked  —  very  large  "  — 

She  stopped  short,  and  her  hands  clutched  each  other 
hard  and  close.  A  wild  thought  of  getting  up  and 
leaving  the  room  came  to  her,  and  then  she  knew  it  was 
too  late. 

A  light  flickered  up  from  the  wood-fire  and  fell  upon 
her  face  as  she  slowly  turned  it  to  Agnes. 

For  an  instant  Agnes  simply  looked  at  her,  then  sho 
uttered  a  terror-stricken  exclamation. 

"  Bertha  I  "  she  cried. 

"Well,"  said  Bertha;  "well!"  But  at  her  next 
breath  she  began  to  tremble,  and  left  her  place  on  the 
hearth  and  stood  up,  trembling  still.  "  I  am  tired  out," 
she  said.  "I  must  go  away.  I  ought  not  to  have  come 
here." 

Bui  Agnes  rose  and  went  to  her,  laying  her  hand  on 
her  arm.  She  had  grown  pale  herself,  and  there  was  a 
thrill  of  almost  passionate  feeling  in  her  words  when 
she  spoke. 


266  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"No,"  she  said.     "You  were  right  to  come. 
is  the  place  for  you." 

She  drew  her  down  upon  the  sofa  and  held  both  hei 
hands. 

"Do  you  think  1  would  let  you  go  now,"  she  said, 
'T  until  you  had  told  me  everything  ?  Do  you  think  I 
did  not  know  there  was  something  you  were  struggling 
with  ?  When  I  told  you  of  my  own  unhappiness,  it  was 
because  I  hoped  it  would  help  you  to  speak.  If  you 
had  not  known  that  I  had  suffered  you  could  not  have 
told  me.  You  must  tell  me  now.  What  barrier  could 
there  be  between  us,  —  two  women  who  have  —  who 
have  been  hurt,  and  who  should  know  how  to  be  true 
to  each  other  ?  " 

Bertha  slipped  from  her  grasp  and  fell  upon  her  knees 
by  the  sofa,  covering  her  face. 

"Agnes,"  she  panted,  "I  never  thought  of  this  —  I 
don't  know  how  it  has  come  about.  I  never  meant  to 
speak.  Almost  the  worst  of  it  all  is  that  my  power 
over  myself  is  gone,  and  that  it  has  even  come  to  this, 
—  that  I  am  speaking  when  I  meant  to  be  silent.  Don't 
look  at  me  !  I  don't  know  what  it  all  means  !  All  my 
life  has  been  so  different  —  it  is  so  unlike  me  —  that  I 
say  to  myself  it  cannot  be  true.  Perhaps  it  is  not.  I 
have  never  believed  in  such  things.  I  don't  think  I 
believe  now ;  I  don't  know  what  it  means,  I  say,  or 
whether  it  will  last,  and  if  it  is  not  only  a  sort  of  illness 
that  I  shall  get  better  of.  I  am  trying  with  all  my 
strength  to  believe  that,  and  to  get  better ;  but  while  it 
lasts  "- 

"Gv  on,"  said  Agnes,  in  a  hushed  voice. 

Bertha   threw  out  her  hands  and  wrung   them,  the 
pretty  baubles  she  had  not  removed  when  she  undressed 
o  on  her  wrists. 

"  It  is  worse  for  me  than  for  any  one  else,"  she  cried. 
w  Worse,  worse  !  It  is  not  fair.  I  was  not  prepared 
for  it.  I  was  so  sure  it  was  not  true ;  I  can't  understand 
it.  But,  whether  it  is  true  or  not,  while  it  lasts,  Agnes, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  267 

while  it  lasts  "  —  And  she  hid  her  face  again  aud  the 
bangles  and  serpents  of  silver  and  gold  jingled  more  mer- 
rily than  ever. 

"You  think,"  said  Agnes,  "that  you  will  get  over 
it?" 

*v  Get  over  it  I  "  she  cried.  "  How  often  do  you  sup- 
pose I  have  said  to  myself  that  I  must  get  over  it  ?  How 
many  thousand  times  ?  I  must  get  over  it.  Is  it  a  thing 
to  trifle  with  and  be  sentimental  over  ?  It  is  a  degrada- 
tion. I  don't  spare  myself.  No  one  could  say  to  me 
more  than  I  say  to  myself.  I  cannot  spare  it,  and  I 
must  get  over  it ;  but  I  don't  —  I  don't — I  don't.  And 
sometimes  the  horrible  thought  comes  to  me  that  it  is  a 
thing  you  can't  get  over,  and  it  drives  me  mad,  but  — 
but"  — 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  Agnes. 

Her  hands  dropped  away  from  her  face. 

"  If  I  tell  you  this,"  she  said,  breathlessly,  "you  will 
despise  me.  I  think  I  am  going  to  tell  it  to  you  that 
you  may  despise  me.  The  torture  of  it  will  be  a  sort 
of  penance.  When  the  thought  comes  to  me  that  I  may 
get  over  it,  that  it  will  go  out  of  my  life  in  time,  and  be 
lost  forever,  then  I  know  that,  compared  to  that,  all  the 
rest  is  nothing  —  nothing ;  and  that  I  could  bear  it  for 
an  eternity,  the  anguish  and  the  shame  and  the  bitter- 
ness, if  only  it  might  not  be  taken  away." 

r  Oh ! "  cried  Agnes,  "  I  can  believe  it  I  I  can  believe 
it!" 

' { You  can  believe  it  ?  "  said  Bertha,  fiercely.  "  You  ? 
Yes.  But  I—  I  cannot !  " 

For  some  minutes  after  this  Agnes  did  not  speak. 
She  sat  still  and  looked  down  at  Bertha's  cowering  fig- 
ure. There  came  back  to  her,  with  terrible  distinctness, 
times  when  she  herself  must  have  looked  so,  — only  she 
had  always  been  alone, — and  there  mingled  with  tht, 
leep  feeling  of  the  moment  a  far-away  pity  for  her  own 
helpless  youth  and  despair. 

w  Will  you  tell  me,"  she  said,  at  last,  "how  it  began?  r 


268  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

She  was  struck,  when  Bertha  lifted  her  face  from  its 
cushions,  by  the  change  which  had  come  upon  her.  All 
traces  of  intense  and  passionate  feeling  were  gone ;  it 
was  as  if  her  weeping  had  swept  them  away,  and  left 
only  a  weariness,  which  made  her  look  pathetically 
young  and  helpless.  As  she  watched  her  Agnes  won- 
dered if  she  had  ever  looked  up  at  Tredennis  with  such 
eyes. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  it  was  long  before  I  knew. 
If  I  had  not  been  so  young  and  so  thoughtless  I  think 
I  should  have  known  that  I  began  to  care  for  him  before 
he  went  away  the  first  time.  But  I  was  very  young, 
and  he  was  so  quiet.  There  was  one  day,  when  he 
brought  me  some  heliotrope,  when  I  wondered  why  I 
liked  the  quiet  things  he  said ;  and  after  he  went  away 
I  used  to  wonder,  in  a  sort  of  fitful  way,  what  he  was 
doing.  And  the  first  time  I  found  myself  face  to  face 
with  a  trouble  I  thought  of  him,  and  wished  for  him, 
without  knowing  why.  I  even  began  a  letter  to  him ; 
but  I  was  too  timid  to  send  it." 

"  Oh,  if  you  had  sent  it ! "  Agnes  exclaimed,  involun- 
tarily. 

«  Yes  —  if  I  had  sent  it !  But  I  did  not.  Perhaps  it 
would  not  have  made  much  difference  if  I  had,  only 
when  I  told  him  of  it "  — 

"  You  told  him  of  it?"  said  Agnes. 

"Yes  —  in  Virginia.  All  the  wrong  I  have  done,  all 
the  indulgence  I  have  allowed  myself,  is  the  wrong  I 
did  and  the  indulgence  I  allowed  myself  in  Virginia. 
There  were  days  in  Virginia  when  I  suppose  I  was  bad 
enough " — 

"  Tell  me  that  afterward,"  said  Agnes.  w  I  want  (o 
know  how  you  reached  it." 

"  I  reached  it,"  answered  Bertha,  "  in  this  way :  the 
thing  that  was  my  first  trouble  grew  until  it  was  too 
strong  for  me  —  or  I  was  too  weak  for  it.  It  was  mj 
own  fault.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  known,  but  I  did 
not.  I  don't  think  that  I  have  let  any  one  but  myself 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  268 

suffer  for  my  mistake.  I  couldn't  dc  that.  When  1 
found  out  what  a  mistake  it  was,  I  told  myself  that  it 
was  mine,  and  that  I  must  abide  by  it.  And  in  time  I 
thought  I  had  grown  quite  hard,  and  I  amused  myself, 
acd  said  that  nothing  mattered;  and  I  did  not  believe 
in  emotion,  and  thought  I  enjoyed  living  on  the  suiface. 
I  disliked  to  hear  stories  of  any  strong  feeling.  I  tried 
to  avoid  reading  them,  and  I  was  always  glad  when  I 
heard  clever  worldly  speeches  made.  I  liked  Laurence 
first,  because  he  said  such  clever,  cold-blooded  things. 
He  was  at  his  worst  when  I  first  knew  him.  He  had 
lost  all  his  money,  and  some  one  had  been  false  to  him, 
ind  he  believed  nothing." 

"I  did  not  know,"  said  Agnes,  "that  ^ehad  a  story." 
And  then  she  added,  a  trifle  hurriedly,  "But  it  does 
not  matter." 

"It  mattered  to  him,"  said  Bertha.  "And  we  all 
have  a  story  —  even  poor  Larry  —  and  even  I  —  even 
II" 

Then  she  went  on  again. 

"  There  was  one  thing,"  she  said,  "  that  I  told  myself 
oftener  than  anything  else,  and  that  was  that  I  was  not 
unhappy.  ^  I  was  always  saying  that  and  giving  myself 
reasons.  *  When  my  dresses  were  becoming,  and  I  went 
out  a  great  deal,  and  people  seemed  to  admire  me,  I 
used  to  say,  f  How  few  women  are  as  happy !  How 
many  things  I  have  to  make  me  happy ! '  and  when  a 
horrible  moment  of  leisure  came,  and  I  could  not  bear 
it,  I  would  say,  f  How  tired  I  must  be  to  feel  as  I  do ; 
*nd  what  nonsense  it  is  ! '  The  one  thing  Eichard  has 
liked  most  in  me  has  been  that  I  have  not  given  way  to 
my  moods,  and  have  always  reasoned  about  them.  Ah  ! 
Agnes,  if  I  had  been  happier  I  might  have  given  wa^ 
to  them  just  a  little  sometimes,  and  have  been  less 
tired.  If  I  were  to  die  now  I  know  what  they  would 
remember  of  me  :  that  I  laughed  a  great  deal,  and  made 
the  house  gay." 

She  went  on  without  tears. 


270  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

" I  think,"  she  said,  "that  I  never  felt  so  sure  of  my- 
self as  I  did  last  winter,  —  so  sure  that  I  had  lived  past 
things  and  was  quite  safe.  It  was  a  very  gay  season, 
and  there  were  several  people  here  who  amused  me  and 
made  things  seem  brilliant  and  enjoyable.  When  I 
was  not  going  out  the  parlors  were  always  crowded 
with  clever  men  and  women  ;  and  when  I  did  go  out  I 
danced  and  talked  and  interested  myself  more  than  I 
had  ever  seemed  to  do  before.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
inauguration  ball.  Laurence  and  Richard  were  both 
with  me,  and  I  danced  every  dance,  and  had  the  most 
brilliant  night.  I  don't  think  one  expects  to  be  actually 
brilliant  at  an  inauguration  ball,  but  that  night  I  think  we 
were,  and  when  we  were  going  away  we  turned  to  look 
back,  and  Laurence  said,  '  What  a  night  it  has  been  ! 
We  couldn't  possibly  have  had  such  a  night  if  we  had 
tried.  I  wonder  if  we  shall  ever  have  such  a  night 
again' ;  and  I  said,  '  Scores  of  them,  I  haven't  a  doubt ' ; 
but  that  was  the  last  night  of  all." 

"The  last  night  of  all?"  repeated  Agnes. 

"  There  have  been  no  more  nights  at  all  like  it,  and 
no  more  days.  The  next  night  but  one  the  Winter 
Gardners  gave  a  party,  and  I  was  there.  Laurence 
brought  me  some  roses  and  heliotrope,  and  'I  carried 
them ;  and  I  remember  how  the  scent  of  the  heliotrope 
reminded  me  of  the  night  I  sat  and  talked  to  Philip 
Tredennis  by  the  fire.  It  came  back  all  the  more 
strongly  because  I  had  heard  from  papa  of  his  return. 
I  was  not  glad  that  he  had  come  to  Washington,  and  I 
did  not  care  to  see  him.  He  seemed  to  belong  to  a  time 
I  wanted  to  forget.  I  did  not  know  he  was  to  be  at  the 
Gardners'  until  he  came  in,  and  I  looked  up  and  saw 
him  at  the  door.  You  know  how  he  looks  when  he 
comes  into  a  room,  —  so  tall,  and  strong,  and  different 
from  all  the  rest.  Does  he  look  different  from  til  the 
rest,  Agnes  —  or  is  it  only  that  I  think  so  ?  " 

"  He  is  different,"  said  Agnes.  "  Even  I  could  see 
that." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  271 

"  Oh  ! '  said  Bertha,  despairingly,  "  I  don't  kno\f 
what  it  is  that  makes  it  so ;  but  sometimes  I  have  thoughi 
that,  perhaps,  when  first  men  were  on  earth  they  were 
like  that,  —  strong  and  earnest,  and  simple  and  brave,  — 
never  trifling  with  themselves  or  others,  and  always 
ready  to  be  tender  with  those  who  suffer  or  are  weak. 
If  you  only  knew  the  stones  we  have  heard  of  his  cour- 
age and  determination  and  endurance  !  I  do  not  think 
he  ever  remembers  them  himself;  but  how  can  the  rest 
of  us  forget ! 

"  The  first  thought  I  had  when  I  saw  him  was  that 
it  was  odd  that  the  mere  sight  of  him  should  startle  me 
so.  And  then  1  watched  him  pass  through  the  crowds, 
and  tried  to  make  a  paltry  satirical  comment  to  myself 
upon  his  size  and  his  grave  face.  And  then,  against 
my  will,  T  began  to  wonder  what  he  would  do  when  he 
saw  me,  and  if  he  would  see  what  had  happened  to  me 
since  he  had  given  me  the  flowers  for  my  first  party ; 
and  I  wished  he  had  stayed  away — and  I  began  to  feel 
tired  —  and  just  then  he  turned  and  saw  me.'' 

She  paused  and  sank  into  a  wearied  sitting  posture, 
resting  her  cheek  against  the  sofa  cushion. 

"  It  seems  so  long  ago  —  so  long  ago,"  she  said  ;  "  and 
yet  it  is  not  one  short  year  since." 

She  went  on  almost  monotonously. 

"He  saw  the  change  in  me,  —  I  knew  that,  — though 
he  did  not  know  what  it  meant.  I  suppose  he  thought 
the  bad  side  of  me  had  developed  instead  of  the 
good,  because  the  bad  had  predominated  in  the  first 
place." 

"  He     never     thought     that,"      Agnes     interposed 
"  Never ! " 

"Don't  you  think  so?"  said  Bertha.  "  Well,  it  was 
not  my  fault  if  he  didn't.  I  don't  know  whether  it  was 
natural  or  not  that  I  should  always  make  the  worst  of 
myself  before  him ;  but  I  always  did.  I  did  not  \vant 
him  to  come  to  the  house ;  but  Richard  brought  him 
again  and  again,  until  he  had  been  so  often  that  there 


272  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

must  have  been  some  serious  reasons  if  he  had  stayed 
away.  And  then  —  and  then  "  — 

«  What  then  ?  "  said  Agnes. 

She  made  a  gesture  of  passionate  impatience. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  know !  I  be- 
gan to  be  restless  and  unhappy.  I  did  not  care  for  go- 
ing out,  and  I  dared  not  stay  at  home.  When  I  was 
alone  I  used  to  sit  and  think  of  that  first  winter,  and 
compare  myself  with  the  Bertha  who  lived  then  as  if 
she  had  been  another  creature,  —  some  one  I  had  been 
fond  of,  and  who  had  died  in  some  sad,  unexpected  way 
while  she  was  very  young.  I  used  to  be  angry  because 
I  found  myself  so  easily  moved, — things  touched  me 
which  had  never  touched  me  before ;  and  one  day,  as  I 
was  singing  a  little  German  song  of  farewell, — that 
poor  little,  piteous  '  Auf  Wiedersehn '  we  all  know,  — 
suddenly  my  voice  broke,  and  I  gave  a  helpless  sob, 
and  the  tears  streamed  down  my  cheeks.  It  filled  me 
with  terror.  I  have  never  been  a  crying  woman,  and  I 
have  rather  disliked  people  who  cried.  When  I  cried 
I  knew  that  some  terrible  change  had  come  upon  me, 
and  1  hated  myself  for  it.  I  told  myself  I  was  ill,  and 
I  said  I  would  go  away  ;  but  Richard  wished  me  to  re- 
main. And  every  day  it  was  worse  and  worse.  And 
when  I  was  angry  with  myself  I  revenged  myself  on 
the  person  I  should  have  spared.  When  I  said  things 
of  myself  which  were  false  he  had  a  way  of  looking  at 
me  as  if  he  was  simply  waiting  to  hear  what  I  would 
say  next,  and  I  never  knew  whether  he  believed  me  or 
not,  and  I  resented  that  more  than  all  the  rest." 

She  broke  off  for  an  instant,  and  then  began  again 
hurriedly. 

"Why  should  I  make  such  a  long  story  of  it?"  she 
said.  "I  could  not  tell  *t  all,  nor  the  half  of  it,  if  I 
talked  until  to-morrow.  If  I  had  been  given  to  senti- 
ments and  emotions  I  could  not  have  deceived  myself 
so  long  as  I  did,  that  is  all.  I  have  known  women  who 
have  had  experiences  and  sentiments  all  their  lives,  one 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  273 

After  another.  /I  used  to  know  girls,  when  I  was  a  girl, 
who  were  always  passing  through  some  sentimental  ad- 
venture ;  but  1  was  not  like  that,  and  I  never  understood 
them.  But  I  think  it  is  better  to  be  so  than  to  live  un- 
moved so  long  that  you  feel  you  are  quite  safe,  and  then 
to  waken  up  to  face  the  feeling  of  a  lifetime  all  at  once. 
It  is  better  to  take  it  by  instalments.  If  I  had  been 
more  experienced  I  should  have  been  safer.  But  I 
deceived  myself,  and  called  what  I  suffered  by  every 
name  but  the  right  one.  I  said  it  was  resentment  and 
wounded  vanity  and  weakness  ;  but  it  was  not  —  it  was 
not.  There  was  one  person  who  knew  it  was  not, 
though  he  let  me  call  it  what  I  pleased"  — 

"  He  ?  "  said  Agnes. 

"It  was  Laurence  Arbuthnot  who  knew.  He  had 
been  wretched  himself  once,  and  while  he  laughed  at 
ine  and  talked  nonsense,  he  cared  enough  for  me  to 
watch  me  and  understand." 

"It  would  never  have  occurred  to  me,"  remarked 
Agnes,  "to  say  he  did  not  care  for  you.  I  think  he 
cares  for  you  very  much." 

"  Yes,  he  cares  for  me,"  said  Bertha,  "and  I  can  see 
now  that  he  was  kinder  to  me  than  I  knew.  He  stood 
between  me  and  many  a  miserable  moment,  and  warded 
off  things  I  could  not  have  warded  off  myself.  I  think 
he  hoped  at  first  that  I  would  get  over  it.  It  was  he 
who  helped  me  to  make  up  my  mind  to  go  away.  It 
seemed  the  best  thing,  but  it  would  have  been  better  if 
I  had  not  gone." 

"  Better?  "  Agnes  repeated. 

"  There  was  a  Fate  in  it,"  she  said.  "  Everything 
was  against  me.  When  I  said  good-by  to  —  to  the  per- 
son I  wished  to  escape  from  —  though  I  did  not  admit 
to  myself  then  that  it  was  from  him  I  wished  to  escape 
—  when  I  said  good-by,  I  thought  it  was  almost  the 
same  thing  as  saying  good-by  forever.  I  had  always 
told  myself  that  I  was  too  superficial  to  be  troubled  by 
•njthing  long,  and  that  I  could  always  forget  anything 


274  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINIS1  RATION. 

I  was  determined  to  put  behind  me.  I  had  done  it 
before,  and  I  fancied  I  could  do  it  then,  and  that  when  1 
caine  back  in  the  winter  I  should  have  got  over  my 
moods,  and  be  stronger  physically,  and  not  be  emotional 
any  more.  I  meant  to  take  the  children  and  give  them 
every  hour  of  my  days,  and  live  out-of-doors  in  a  sim- 
ple, natural  way,  until  I  was  well.  I  always  called  it 
getting  well.  But  when  he  came  to  say  good-by  —  it 
was  very  hard.  It  was  so  hard  that  I  was  terrified 
again.  He  spent  the  evening  with  us,  and  the  hours 
slipped  away — slipped  away,  and  every  time  the  clock 
struck  my  heart  beat  so  fast  that,  at  last,  instead  of 
beating,  it  seemed  only  to  tremble  and  make  me  weak. 
And  at  last  he  got  up  to  go ;  and  I  could  not  believe 
that  it  was  true,  that  he  was  really  going,  until  he  went 
out  of  the  door.  And  then  so  much  seemed  to  go  with 
him,  and  we  had  only  said  a  few  commonplace  words 

—  and  it  was  the  last — last  time.     And  it  all  rushed 
upon  me,  and  my  heart  leaped  in  my  side,  and  —  and  I 
went  to  him.     There   was   no  other  way.      And,  O 
Agnes  "  — 

"I  know  —  I  know!"  said  Agnes,  brokenly.     "But 

—  try  not  to  do  that !     It  is  the  worst  thing  you  can  do 

—  to  cry  so." 

"He  did  not  know  why  I  came,"  Bertha  said.  "I 
don't  know  what  he  thought.  I  don't  know  what  I 
said.  He  looked  pale  and  startled  at  first,  and  then  he 
took  my  hand  in  both  his  and  spoke  to  me.  I  have 
seen  him  hold  Janey's  hand  so  —  as  if  he  could  not  be 
gentle  enough.  And  he  said  it  was  always  hard  to  say 
good-by,  and  would  I  remember  —  and  his  voice  was 
quite  unsteady  —  would  I  remember  that  if  I  should 
ever  need  any  help  he  was  ready  to  be  called.  I  had 
treated  him  badly  and  coldly  that  very  evening,  but  it 
was  as  if  he  forgot  it.  And  I  forgot,  too,  and  for  just 
one  little  moment  we  were  near  each  other,  and  there 
was  nothing  in  our  hearts  but  sadness  and  kindness,  as 
if  we  had  been  friends  who  had  the  right  to  be  sad  at 


•THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  27$ 

parting.  And  we  said  good-by  agj  in  —  ami  he  went 
away. 

"I  fought  very  hard  in  those  next  two  months,  and  1 
was  very  determined.  I  never  allowed  Liyself  time  to 
think  in  the  daytime.  I  played  with  the  children  and 
read  to  them  and  walked  with  them,  and  when  night 
came  I  used  to  be  tired  out ;  but  I  did  not  sle*  p.  I 
laid  awake  trying  to  force  my  thoughts  back,  and  when 
morning  broke  it  seemed  as  if  all  my  strength  was 
spent.  And  I  did  not  get  well.  And,  when  it  all 
seemed  at  the  worst,  suddenly  Janey  was  taken  ill,  and 
I  thought  she  would  die,  and  I  was  all  alone,  and  I  sent 
for  papa  "  — 

She  broke  off  with  the  ghost  of  a  bitter  little 
laugh. 

"I  have  heard  a  great  deal  said  about  fate,"  she  went 
on.  "  Perhaps  it  was  fate  ;  I  don't  know.  I  don't  care 
now  —  it  doesn't  matter.  That  very  day  papa  was  ill 
himself,  and  Philip  Tredennis  came  to  me  —  Philip 
Tredennis  ! " 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Agnes,  "  it  was  very  cruel ! " 

w  Was  it  cruel  ?  "  said  Bertha.  "  It  was  something. 
Perhaps  it  would  do  to  call  it  cruel.  I  had  been  up 
with  Janey  for  two  or  three  nights.  She  had  suffered 
a  great  deal  for  a  little  creature,  and  I  was  worn  out 
with  seeing  her  pain  and  not  being  able  to  help  it.  I 
was  expecting  the  doctor  from  Washington,  and  when 
she  fell  asleep  at  last  I  went  to  the  window  to  listen, 
so  that  I  might  go  down  and  keep  the  dogs  quiet  if  he 
came.  It  was  one  of  those  still,  white  moonlight  nights 
—  the  most  beautiful  night.  After  a  while  I  fancied  I 
heard  the  far-away  hoof-beat  of  a  horse  on  the  road, 
and  I  ran  down.  The  dogs  knew  me,  and  seemed  to 
understand  I  wished  them  to  be  quiet  when  1  spoke  to 
them.  As  the  noise  came  nearer  I  went  down  to  the 
gate.  I  was  trembling  with  eagerness  and  anxiety,  and 
I  spoke  before  I  reached  it.  I  was  sure  it  was  Doctor 
Malcolm ;  but  it  was  some  one  larger  and  taller,  and  the 


276  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

figure  came  out  into  the  moonlight,  and  I  was  looking 
up  at  Philip  Tredenriis  !  " 

Agnes  laid  her  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Wait  a  moment  before  you  go  on,"  she  said.    w  Give 
yourself  time." 

"No,"  said  Bertha,  hurrying,  "I  will  go  on  to  the 
end.  Agnes,  I  have  never  lied  to  myself  since  that 
minute  —  never  once.  Where  would  have  been  the 
use?  I  thought  he  was  forty  miles  away,  and  there  ho 
stood,  and  the  terror,  and  joy,  and  anguish  of  seeing  him 
swept  everything  else  away,  and  I  broke  down.  I  don't 
know  what  he  felt  and  thought.  There  was  one  strange 
moment  when  he  stood  quite  close  to  me  and  touched 
my  shoulder  with  his  strong,  kind  hand.  He  seemed 
overwhelmed  by  what  I  did,  and  his  voice  was  only  a 
whisper.  There  seemed  no  one  in  all  the  world  but  our- 
selves, and  when  I  lifted  my  face  from  the  gate  I  knew 
what  all  I  had  suffered  meant.  As  he  talked  to  me 
afterward  I  was  saying  over  to  myself,  as  if  it  was  a 
lesson  I  was  learning,  'You  are  mad  with  joy  just  be- 
cause this  man  is  near  you.  All  your  pain  has  gone 
away.  Everything  is  as  it  was  before,  but  you  don't 
care  —  you  don't  care.'  I  said  that  because  I  wished  to 
make  it  sound  as  wicked  as  I  could.  But  it  was  of  no 
use.  I  have  even  thought  since  then  that  if  he  had  been 
a  bad  man,  thinking  of  himself,  I  might  have  been  saved 
that  night  by  finding  it  out.  But  he  was  not  thinking 
of  himself — only  of  me.  He  came,  not  for  his  own 
sake,  but  for  mine  and  Janey's.  He  came  to  help  us 
and  stand  by  us  and  care  for  us ;  to  do  any  common, 
simple  service  for  us,  as  well  as  any  great  one.  We 
were  not  to  think  of  him ;  he  was  to  think  of  us.  And 
he  sent  me  away  upstairs  to  sleep,  and  walked  out 
side  below  the  window  all  night.  And  I  slept  like  a 
child.  I  should  not  have  slept  if  it  had  been  any  one 
else,  but  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  brought  strength  and 
quietness  with  him,  and  I  need  not  stay  awake,  because 
everything  was  so  safe.  That  has  been  his  power  over 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  27? 

me  from  the  first  —  that  he  rested  me.  Sometimes  I 
have  been  so  tired  of  the  feverish,  restless  way  we  have 
of  continually  amusing  ourselves,  as  if  we  dare  not  stop, 
and  of  reasoning  and  wondering  and  arguing  to  no  end. 
We  are  all  introspection  and  retrospection,  and  we  call 
it  being  analytical  and  clever.  If  it  is  being  clever,  the  a 
we  are  too  clever.  One  gets  so  tired  of  it ;  one  wibLos 
one  could  stop  thinking  and  know  less  —  or  more,  lie 
was  not  like  that,  and  he  rested  me.  That  was  it.  He 
made  life  seem  more  simple. 

"Well,  he  rested  me  then,  and,  though  I  made  one 
effort  to  send  him" away,  I  knew  he  would  not  go,  and 
I  did  not  try  very  hard.  I  did  not  want  him  to  go.  So 
when  he  refused  to  be  sent  away,  an  obstinate  feeling 
came  over  me,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  I  would  not  do 
or  say  one  unkind  thing  to  him  while  he  was  there.  I 
would  be  as  gentle  and  natural  with  him  as  if — as  if  he 
had  been  some  slight,  paltry  creature  who  was  nothing, 
and  less  than  nothing,  to  me.  I  should  have  been  amia- 
ble enough  to  such  a  man  if  I  had  been  indebted  to  him 
for  such  service." 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  Agnes,  "  but  it  could  not  end  there  ! " 

"  End  !  "  said  Bertha.  "  There  is  no  end,  there  never 
will  be  I  Do  you  think  I  do  not  see  the  bitter  truth  ? 
One  may  call  it  what  one  likes,  and  make  it  as  pathetic 
and  as  tragic  and  hopeless  as  words  can  paint  it,  but  it 
is  only  the  old,  miserable,  undignified  story  of  a  woman 
who  is  married,  and  who  cares  for  a  man  who  is  not  her 
husband.  Nothing  can  be  worse  than  that.  It  is  a  cu- 
rious thing,  isn't  it,  that  somehow  one  always  feels  as  if 
the  woman  must  be  bad  ?  " 

Agnes  Sylvestre  laid  a  hand  on  her  again  without 
speaking. 

"I  suppose  I  was  bad  in  those  days, '  Bertha  contin- 
ued. "I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  was  —  though  I  dare  say 
that  only  makes  it  worse.  I  deliberately  let  myself  be 
happy.  I  let  him  be  kind  to  me.  I  tried  to  amuse  and 
please  him.  Janey  got  well,  and  the  days  were  beau- 


278  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

tiful.  I  did  all  he  wished  me  to  do,  and  he  was  as  good 
to  mt  as  he  was  to  Janey.  When  you  spoke  of  his  be- 
ing so  gentle  it  brought  everything  back  to  me  in  a 
i  ush,  —  his  voice,  and  his  look,  and  his  touch.  There  are 
so  many  people  who,  when  they  touch  you,  seem  iw 
take  something  from  you  ;  he  always  seemed  to  give  you 
something, — protection,  and  sympathy,  and  generous 
help.  He  had  none  of  the  gallant  tricks  of  other  men, 
and  he  was  often  a  little  shy  and  restrained,  but  the 
night  he  held  my  hand  in  both  his,  and  the  moment  ho 
touched  my  shoulder,  when  I  broke  down  so  at  the  gate, 
1  could  not  forget  if  I  tried." 

"  But,  perhaps,"  said  Agnes,  sadly,  "you  had  better 
try." 

Bertha  looked  up  at  her. 

"When  I  have  tried  for  a  whole  year,"  she  said,  "I 
will  tell  you  what  success  I  have  had." 

"Oh  !  "  Agnes  cried,  desperately,  "it  will  take  more 
than  a  year." 

"  I  have  thought  it  might,"  said  Bertha ;  "  perhaps  it 
may  take  even  two." 

The  fire  gave  a  fitful  leap  of  flame,  and  she  turned  to 
look  at  it. 

"The  fire  is  going  out,"  she  said,  "  and  I  have  almost 
finished.  Do  you  care  to  hear  the  rest?  You  have 
been  very  patient  to  listen  so  long." 

"  Go  on,"  Agnes  said. 

"  Well,  much  as  I  indulged  myself  then  I  knew  where 
I  must  stop,  and  I  never  really  forgot  that  I  was  going 
to  stop  at  a  certain  point.  I  said  that  I  would  be  happy 
just  so  long  as  he  was  there,  and  that  when  we  parted 
that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  I  even  laid  out  my  plans, 
and  the  night  before  he  was  to  go  away  —  in  the  even- 
ing, after  the  long,  beautiful  day  was  over  —  I  said 
things  to  him  which  I  meant  should  make  him  distrust 
me.  The  shallowest  man  on  earth  will  hate  you  if  you 
make  him  think  you  are  shallow,  and  capable  of  trifling 
as  he  does  himself.  The  less  a  man  intends  to  remem* 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  279 

Oer  you  the  more  he  intends  you  shall  remember  him, 
It  will  be  his  religious  belief  that  women  should  be  true, 

—  some  one  should  be  true,  you  know,  and  it  is  easier 
to  let  it  be  the  woman.     What  I  tried  to  suggest  that 
night  was  that  my  treatment  of  him  had  only  been  a 
caprice,  —  that  what  he  had  seen  of  me  in  Washington 
had  been  the  real  side  of  my  life,  and  that  he  would  see 
it  again  and  need  not  be  surprised." 

"  O  Bertha  !  "  her  friend  cried.     "  O  Bertha  1 " 

And  she  threw  both  arms  about  her  with  an  intensely 
feminine  swiftness  and  expressiveness. 

"Yes,"  said  Bertha,  "  it  was  not  easy.  I  never  tried 
anything  quite  so  difficult  before,  and  perhaps  I  did  not 
do  it  well,  for  —  he  would  not  believe  me." 

There  was  quite  a  long  pause,  in  which  she  leaned 
against  Agnes,  breathing  quickly. 

"  I  think  that  is  really  the  end,"  she  said  at  last.  "  It 
seems  rather  abrupt,  but  there  is  very  little  more.  He 
is  a  great  deal  stronger  than  I  am,  and  he  is  too  true 
himself  to  believe  lies  at  the  first  telling.  One  must 
tell  them  to  him  obstinately  and  often.  I  shall  have  to 
be  persistent  and  consistent  too." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Agnes.  "What 
are  you  thinking  of  doing  ?  " 

w  There  will  be  a  great  deal  to  be  done,"  she  answered, 

—  "a  great  deal.     There  is  only  one  thing  which  will 
make  him  throw  me  aside  "  — 

"  Throw  you  aside  —  you  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  have  always  been  very  proud,  —  it  was  the 
worst  of  my  faults  that  I  was  so  deadly  proud,  —  but  I 
want  him  to  throw  me  aside  —  me  !  Surely  one  could 
not  care  for  a  man  when  he  was  tired  and  did  not  want 
one  any  more.  That  must  end  it.  And  there  is  some- 
thing else.  I  don't  know  —  I  am  not  sure  —  I  could  not 
trust  myself — but  there  have  been  times  when  I  thought 
that  he  was  beginning  to  care  too  —  whether  he  knew  it 
or  not.  I  don't  judge  him  by  the  other  men  I  have 
known,  but  sometimes  there  was  such  a  look  in  his  eyes 


280  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

that  it  made  me  tremble  with  ftar  and  joy.  And  lie 
shall  not  spoil  his  life  for  me.  It  would  be  a  poor  thing 
that  he  should  give  all  he  might  give  —  to  Bertha 
Aimry.  He  had  better  give  it  to  —  to  you,  Agnes," 
ehe  said,  with  a  little  tightening  grasp. 

"I  do  not  want  it,"  said  Agnes,  calmly.  "I  hale 
done  with  such  things,  and  he  is  not  the  man  \o 
change." 

w  He  must,"  said  Bertha,  "  in  time  —  if  I  am  very  un- 
flinching and  clever.  They  always  said  I  was  clever, 
you  know,  and  that  I  had  wonderful  control  over  my- 
self. But  I  shall  have  to  be  very  clever.  The  only 
thing  which  will  make  him  throw  me  aside  is  the  firm 
belief  that  I  am  worth  nothing,  —  the  belief  that  I  am 
false,  and  shallow,  and  selfish,  and  as  wicked  as  such  a 
slight  creature  can  be.  Let  me  hide  the  little  that  is 
good  in  me,  and  show  him  always,  day  by  day,  what  is 
bad.  There  is  enough  of  that,  and  in  the  end  he  must 
get  tired  of  me,  and  show  me  that  he  has  done  with  me 
forever." 

"You  cannot  do  it,"  said  Agnes,  breathlessly. 

"  I  cannot  do  it  for  long,  I  know  that ;  but  I  can  dc 
it  for  a  while,  and  then  I  will  make  Richard  let  me  gc 
away  —  to  Europe.  I  have  asked  him  before,  but  he 
seemed  so  anxious  to  keep  me  —  I  cannot  tell  why — 
and  I  have  never  opposed  or  disobeyed  him.  I  try  tc 
be  a  good  wife  in  such  things  as  that.  I  ought  to  be  a 
good  wife  in  something.  Just  now  he  has  some  reason 
for  wishing  me  to  remain  here.  He  does  not  always 
tell  me  his  reasons.  But  perhaps  in  the  spring  he  will 
not  object  to  my  going,  and  one  can  always  spend  a 
year  or  so  abroad ;  and  when  he  joins  us,  as  he  will 
afterward,  he  will  be  sure  to  be  fascinated,  and  in  the 
end  we  might  stay  away  for  years,  and  if  we  ever  come 
back  all  will  be  over,  and  —  and  I  shall  be  forgotten." 

She  withdrew  herself  from  her  friend's  arms,  and  rose 
to  her  feet. 

"  I  shall  be  forgotten  —  forgotten  !  "  she  said.    "  Oh  I 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  281 

Dow  can  I  be  !  How  can  such  pain  pass  away  and  end 
in  nothing  !  Just  while  everything  is  at  the  worst >  it  is 
not  easy  to  remember  that  one  only  counts  for  one,  after 
all,  and  that  a  life  is  such  a  little  thing.  It  seems  so 
much  to  one's  self.  And  yet  what  does  it  matter  that 
Bertha  Amory's  life  went  all  wrong,  and  was  only 
a  bubble  that  was  tossed  away  and  broken?  There 
are  such  millions  and  millions  of  people  that  it  means 
nothing,  only  to  Bertha  Amory,  and  it  cannot  mean  any- 
thing to  her  very  long.  Only  just  while  it  lasts  —  and 
before  one  gets  used  to  —  to  the  torture  of  .t "  — 

She  turned  away  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  win- 
dow, drawing  aside  the  curtain. 

"There  is  a  little  streak  of  light  in  the  East,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  the  day,  and  you  have  not  slept  at  all." 

Agnes  went  to  her,  and  they  stood  and  looked  at  it 
together,  —  a  faint,  thin  line  of  gray  tinged  with  palest 
yellow. 

"To-morrow  has  come,"  said  Bertha.  "And  we 
must  begin  the  New  Year  properly.  I  must  make  up 
my  visiting-book  and  arrange  my  lists.  Don't —  don't 
call  any  one,  Agnes  —  it  is  only  —  faintness."  And 
with  the  little  protesting  smile  on  her  lips  she  sank  to 
the  floor. 

Agnes  knelt  down  at  her  side,  and  began  to  loosen 
her  wrapper  at  the  throat  and  chafe  her  hands. 

"Yes,  it  is  only  faintness,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
"  but  if  it  were  something  jaore  you  would  be  saved  a 
great  deal." 


282  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXm. 

*  On  dit  that  the  charming  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  so 
known  and  so  greatly  admired  in  society  circles  as  Misg 
Agnes  Wentworth,  has,  after  several  years  of  absence, 
much  deplored  by  her  numberless  friends,  returned  to 
make  her  home  in  Washington,  having  taken  a  house 
on  Lafayette  Square.  The  three  years  of  Mrs.  Syl- 
vestre's  widowhood  have  been  spent  abroad,  chiefly  in 
Italy,  —  the  land  of  love  and  beauty,  —  where  Tasso 
sang  and  Raphael  dreamed  of  the  Immortals." 

Thus,  the  society  column  of  a  daily  paper,  and  a  week 
later  Mrs.  Merriam  arrived,  and  the  house  on  Lafayette 
Square  was  taken  possession  of, 

It  was  one  of  the  older  houses,  —  a  large  and  sub- 
stantial one,  whose  rather  rigorous  exterior  still  held 
forth  promises  of  possibilities  in  the  way  of  interior 
development.  Arbuthnot  heard  Bertha  mention  one 
day  that  one  of  Mrs.  Syl vestre's  chief  reasons  for  select- 
ing it  was  that  it  "  looked  quiet,"  and  he  reflected  upon 
this  afterward  as  being  rather  unusual  as  the  reason  of  a 
Young  and  beautiful  woman. 

"Though,  after  all,  she  ' looks  quiet'  herself,"  was 
his  mental  comment.  "  If  I  felt  called  upon  to  remark 
upon  her  at  all,  I  should  certainly  say  that  she  was  a 
perfectly  composed  person.  Perhaps  that  is  the  groove 
she  chooses  to  live  in,  or  it  may  be  simply  her  nature, 
I  shouldn't  mind  knowing  which." 

He  was  rather  desirous  of  seeing  what  sne  wourd 
make  of  the  place  inside,  but  the  desire  was  by  no 
means  strong  enough  to  lead  him  to  make  his  first  oil] 
upon  her  an  hour  earlier  than  he  might  have  been  ex- 
pected according  to  the  strictest  canons  of  good  taste. 

On  her  part  Mrs.  Sylvestre  found  great  pleasure  in 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  283 

the  days  spent  in  establishing  herself.  For  years  her 
life  had  been  an  unsettled  one,  and  the  prospect  of 
arranging  a  home  according  to  her  own  tastes  —  and 
especially  a  home  in  Washington  —  was  very  agreeable 
to  her.  Her  fortune  was  large,  her  time  was  her  own, 
and  as  in  the  course  of  her  rambling  she  had  collected 
innumerable  charming  and  interesting  odds  and  ends, 
there  was  no  reason  why  her  house  should  not  be  a 
delightful  one. 

For  several  days  she  was  quite  busy  and  greatly  in- 
terested. She  found  her  pictures,  plaques,  and  hangings 
even  more  absorbing  than  she  had  imagined  they  would 
be.  She  spent  her  mornings  in  arranging  and  rear- 
ranging cabinets,  walls,  and  mantels,  and  moved  about 
her  rooms  wearing  a  faint  smile  of  pleasure  on  her  lips, 
and  a  faint  tinge  of  color  on  her  cheeks. 

"Really,"  she  said  to  Bertha,  who  dropped  in  to  see 
her  one  morning,  and  found  her  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  room  reflecting  upon  a  pretty  old  blue  cup  and 
saucer,  w  I  am  quite  happy  in  a  quiet  way.  I  seem  to 
be  shut  in  from  the  world  and  life,  and  all  busy  things, 
and  to  find  interest  enough  in  the  color  of  a  bit  of  china, 
or  the  folds  of  &  portiere.  It  seems  almost  exciting  to 
put  a  thing  on  a  shelf,  and  then  take  it  down  and  put  it 
somewhere  else." 

When  Arbuthnot  passed  the  house  he  saw  that  rich 
Eastern-looking  stuffs  curtained  the  windows,  and  great 
Indian  jars  stood  on  the  steps  and  balconies,  as  if  ready 
for  plants.  In  exhausting  the  resources  of  the  universe 
Mr.  Sylvestre  had  given  some  attention  to  India,  and, 
being  a  man  of  caprices,  had  not  returned  from  his  ex- 
plorings  empty-handed.  A  carriage  stood  before  the 
house,  and  the  door  being  open,  revealed  glimpses  of 
pictures  and  hangings  in  the  hall,  which  were  pleasantly 
suggestive. 

"IShe  will  make  it  attractive,"  Arbuthnot  said  to  him- 
self. "That  goes  without  saying.  And  she  wil.  be 
rather  perilously  so  herself." 


284  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

His  first  call  upon  her  was  always  a  very  distinct 
memory  to  him.  It  was  made  on  a  rather  chill  and  un 
pleasant  evening,  and,  being  admitted  by  a  servant  into 
the  hall  he  had  before  caught  a  glimpse  of,  its  pictu- 
resque comfort  and  warmth  impressed  themselves  upon 
him  in  the  strongest  possible  contrast  to  the  raw  damp- 
ness and  darkness  of  the  night.  Through  half-drawn 
portieres  he  had  a  flitting  glance  at  two  or  three  rooms 
and  a  passing  impression  of  some  bright  or  deep  point 
of  color  on  drapery,  bric-a-brac,  or  pictures,  and  then 
he  was  ushered  into  the  room  in  which  Mrs.  Sylvestre 
sat  herself.  She  had  been  sitting  before  the  fire  with  a 
book  upon  her  lap,  and  she  rose  to  meet  him,  still  hold- 
ing the  volume  in  her  hand.  She  was  dressed  in  violet 
and  wore  a  large  cluster  of  violets  loosely  at  her  waist. 
She  looked  very  slender,  and  tall,  and  fair,  and  the  rich, 
darkly  glowing  colors  of  the  furniture  and  hangings 
formed  themselves  into  a  background  for  her,  as  if  tb« 
accomplishment  of  that  end  had  been  the  sole  design  of 
their  existence.  Arbuthnot  even  wondered  if  it  was 
possible  that  she  would  ever  again  look  so  well  as  she 
did  just  at  the  instant  she  rose  and  moved  forward, 
though  he  recognized  the  folly  of  the  thought  before 
ten  minutes  had  passed. 

She  looked  quite  as  well  when  she  reseated  her- 
self, and  even  better  when  she  became  interested  in  the 
conversation  which  followed.  It  was  a  conversation 
which  dealt  principally  with  the  changes  which  had 
taken  place  in  Washington  during  her  absence  from  it. 
She  found  a  great  many. 

"  It  strikes  me  as  a  little  singular  that  you  do  not 
resent  them  more,"  said  Arbuthnot. 

"Most  of  them  are  changes  for  the  better,"  she 
answered. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  returned  ;  w  but  that  would  not  make  any 
difference  to  the  ordinary  mind  —  unless  it  awakened 
additional  resentment.  There  is  a  sense  of  personal 
injury  in  recognizing  that  improvements  have  been 
made  entirely  without  our  assistance." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  285 

"I  do  not  feel  it,"  was  her  reply,  "or  it  is  lost  in  my 
pleasure  in  being  at  home  again." 

"She  has  always  thought  of  it  as  'home,'  then,"  was 
Arbuthnot's  mental  comment.  "That  is  an  inadvertent 
speech  which  tells  a  story." 

His  impressions  of  the  late  Mr.  Sylvestre  were  not 
agreeable  ones.  He  had  heard  him  discussed  frequently 
by  men  who  had  known  him,  and  the  stories  told  of 
him  were  not  pleasant.  After  fifteen  minutes  in  the 
crucible  of  impartial  public  opinion,  his  manifold  bril- 
liant gifts  and  undeniable  graces  and  attainments  had 
a  habit  of  disappearing  in  vapor,  and  leaving  behind 
them  a  residuum  of  cold-blooded  selfishness  and  fine 
disregard  of  all  human  feelings  in  others,  not  easily 
disposed  of.  Arbuthnot  had  also  noticed  that  there 
was  but  one  opinion  expressed  on  the  subject  of  hi? 
marriage. 

"He  married  a  lovely  girl  twelve  or  fifteen  years 
younger  than  himself,"  he  had  heard  a  man  say  once. 
"T  should  like  vo  see  what  he  has  made  of  her." 

"  You  would ! "  ejaculated  an  older  man.  "  I 
shouldn't !  Heaven  forbid  !  " 

It  added  greatly  to  Arbuthnot's  interest  in  her  that 
she  bore  no  outward  signs  of  any  conflict  she  might  have 
passed  through.  Whatever  it  had  been,  she  had  borne 
it  with  courage,  and  kept  her  secret  her  own.  The 
quiet  of  her  manner  was  not  suggestive  either  of  sadness 
or  self-repression,  and  she  made  no  apparent  effort  to 
evade  mention  of  her  married  life,  though,  as  she  spoke 
of  herself  but  seldom,  it  seemed  entirely  natural  thai 
sho  should  refer  rarely  to  the  years  she  had  passed 
nway  from  Washington. 

When,  a  little  later,  Mrs.  Merriam  came  in,  sbo 
proved  to  be  as  satisfactory  as  all  other  appurtenances 
to  the  household.  She  was  a  picturesque,  elderly 
woman,  with  a  small,  elegant  figure,  an  acute  little 
countenance,  and  largo,  dark  eyes,  which  sparkled  in 
the  most  amazing  manner  at  times.  She  was  an  old 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Washingtonian  herself,  had  lived  through  several  admin- 
istrations, and  had  made  the  most  of  her  experience. 
She  seemed  to  have  personally  known  the  notabilities  of 
half  a  century,  and  her  reminiscences  gave  Arbuthnofc 
a  feeling  of  being  surpassingly  youthful  and  modern. 
She  had  been  living  abroad  for  the  last  seven  years,  and, 
finding  herself  at  home  once  more,  seemed  to  settle  down 
with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"It  is  a  bad  habit  to  get  into — this  of  living  abroad," 
she  said.  "  It  is  a  habit,  and  it  grows  on  one.  I  went 
away  intending  to  remain  a  year,  and  I  should  probably 
have  ended  my  existence  in  Europe  if  Mrs.  Sylvestre 
had  not  brought  me  home.  I  was  always  a  little  home- 
sick, too,  and  continually  felt  the  need  of  a  new  admin- 
istration ;  but  I  lacked  the  resolution  it  required  to  leave 
behind  me  the  things  I  had  become  accustomed  to." 

When  he  went  away  Arbuthnot  discovered  that  it 
was  with  her  he  had  talked  more  than  with  Mrs.  Sylves- 
tre, and  yet,  while  he  had  been  in  the  room,  it  had  not 
occurred  to  him  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre  was  silent.  Her  si- 
lence was  not  unresponsiveness.  When  he  looked  back 
upon  it  he  found  that  there  was  even  something  delicately 
inspirng  in  it.  "  It  is  that  expression  of  gentle  atten- 
tiveness  in  her  eyes,"  he  said.  "It  makes  your  most 
trivial  remark  of  consequence,  and  convinces  you  that, 
if  she  spoke,  she  would  be  sure  to  say  what  it  would 
please  you  most  to  hear.  It  is  a  great  charm." 

For  a  few  moments  before  returning  to  his  rooms 
he  dropped  in  upon  the  Amory  household. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  parlor  when  he  entered  but 
Colonel  Tredennis,  who  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
apparently  plunged  deep  in  thought,  his  glance  fixed 
upon  the  rug  at  his  feet.  He  was  in  evening  dress,  and 
held  a  pair  of  white  gloves  in  his  hand,  but  he  did  not 
wear  a  festive  ountenance.  Arbuthnot  thought  that 
he  looked  jac*  3d  and  worn.  Certainly  there  were  deep 
lines  left  on  his  forehead,  even  when  he  glanced  up  and 
straightened  it. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  287 

"  I  am  W&  ting  for  Mrs.  Amory,"  he  said.  "  Amory 
is  out  of  toim,  and,  as  we  were  b^th  going  to  the  re- 
ception at  the  Secretary  of  State's,  I  am  to  accompany 
her.  I  think  she  will  be  down  directly.  Yes,  there 
she  is." 

They  saw  her  through  the  portieres  descending  the 
staircase  as  he  spoke.  She  was  gleaming  in  creamy 
satin  and  lace,  and  carried  a  wrap  over  her  arm.  She 
came  into  the  room  with  a  soft  rustle  of  trailing  dra- 
peries, and  Tredennis  stirred  slightly,  and  then  stood 
still. 

"  Did  I  keep  you  waiting  very  long  ?  "  she  said.  w  I 
hope  not,"  and  then  turned  to  Arbuthnot,  as  she  but- 
toned her  long  glove  deliberately. 

"  Richard  has  gone  to  Baltimore  with  a  theatre  party,"        / 
she  explained.     "Miss  Varien  went  and  half-a-dozen       / 
others.     I  did  not  care  to  go ;  and  Richard  persuaded     / 
Colonel  Tredennis  to  assume  his  responsibilities  for  the 
evening  and  take  me  to  the  Secretary  of  State's.     The 
President  is  to  be  there,  and  as  I  have  not  yet  told  him 
that  I  approve  of  his  Cabinet  and  don't  object  to  his 
message,  I  feel  I  ought  not  to  keep  him  in  suspense  any 
longer."  j 

"  Your  approval  will  naturally  remove  a  load  of  anx- 
iety from  his  mind,"  said  Arbuthnot.  w  Can  I  be  of 
any  assistance  to  you  in  buttoning  that  glove?" 

She  hesitated  a  second  and  then  extended  her  wrist. 
To  Arbuthnot,  who  had  occasionally  performed  the  ser- 
vice for  her  before,  there  was  something  novel  both  in 
the  hesitation  and  the  delicate  suggestion  of  coquettish 
surrender  in  her  gesture.  It  had  been  the  chief  of  her 
charms  for  him  that  her  coquetries  were  of  the  finer  and 
moi^e  reserved  sort,  and  that  they  had  never  expended 
themselves  upon  him.  This  was  something  so  new  that 
his  momentary  bewilderment  did  not  add  to  his  dex- 
terity, and  the  glove-buttoning  was  of  longer  duration 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been. 

While  it  was  being  accomplished  Colonel  Tredennii 


288  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINH  TRATION. 

looked  on  in  silence.  He  had  never  buttoned  a  woman's 
glove  in  his  life.  It  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  scarcely 
the  thing  for  a  man  who  was  neither  husband,  brother, 
nor  lover  to  do.  If  there  was  any  deep  feeling  in  his 
heart,  how  could  this  careless,  conventional  fellow  stand 
there  and  hold  her  little  wrist  and  meet  her  lifted  eyes 
without  betraying  himself  ?  His  reasoning  was  not  very 
logical  in  its  nature  :  it  was  the  reasoning  of  pain  and 
hot  anger,  and  other  uneasy  and  masterful  emotions, 
which  so  got  the  better  of  him  that  he  turned  suddenly 
away  that  he  might  not  see,  scarcely  knowing  what  he 
did.  It  was  an  abrupt  movement  and  attracted  Arbuth- 
not's  attention,  as  also  did  something  else, — a  move- 
ment of  Bertha's,  — an  unsteadiness  of  the  gloved  hand 
which,  however,  was  speedily  controlled  or  ended.  He 
glanced  at  her,  but  only  to  find  her  smiling,  though  her 
breath  came  a  little  quickly,  and  her  eyes  looked  ex- 
ceedingly bright. 

"I  am  afraid  you  find  it  rather  troublesome,"  she 
said. 

"  Extremely,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  I  look  upon  it  in  the 
light  of  moral  training,  and,  sustained  by  a  sense  of 
duty,  will  endeavor  to  persevere." 

He  felt  the  absurdity  and  triviality  of  the  words  all 
the  more,  perhaps,  because  as  he  uttered  them  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  Tredennis'  half-averted  face.  There 
was  that  in  its  jaded  look  which  formed  too  sharp  a  con- 
trast to  inconsequent  jesting. 

"  It  is  not  getting  easier  for  him,"  was  his  thought. 
"It  won't  until  it  has  driven  him  harder  even  than  it 
does  now." 

Perhaps  there  was  something  in  his  own  humor  which 
made  him  a  trifle  more  susceptible  to  outward  influ- 
ences than  usual.  As  has  been  already  intimated,  he  had 
his  moods,  and  he  had  felt  one  of  them  creeping  upon 
him  like  a  shadow  during  his  brief  walk  through  the 
dark  streets. 

"  I  hear  the  carriage  at  the  door,"  he  said,  when  he 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  289 

hud  buttoned  the  glove.  "Don't  let  me  detain  you,  1 
am  on  my  way  home." 

"  You  have  been  ?  "  —  questioned  Bertha,  suddenly 
awakening  to  a  new  interest  on  her  own  part. 

"I  called  upon  Mrs.  Sylvestre,"  he  answered. 

And  then  he  assisted  her  to  put  on  her  wrap  and  they 
all  went  out  to  the  carriage  together.  When  she  was 
seated  and  the  door  closed,  Bertha  leaned  forward  and 
spoke  through  the  open  window. 

"Don't  you  think  the  house  very  pretty  ?"  she  inquired 

"  Very,"  was  his  brief  reply,  and  though  she  seemed 
to  expect  him  to  add  more,  he  did  not  do  so,  and  the 
carriage  drove  away  and  left  him  standing  upon  the 
sidewalk. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bertha,  leaning  back,  with  a  faint  smile, 
"  he  will  go  again  and  again,  and  yet  again." 

"  Will  he  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  "  Let  us  hope  he  will 
enjoy  it."  But  the  truth  was  that  the  subject  did  not 
awaken  in  him  any  absorbing  interest. 

"  Oh  !  he  will  enjoy  it,"  she  responded. 

"And  Mrs.  Sylvestre?"  suggested  Tredennis. 

"  He  will  never  be  sure  what  she  thinks  of  him,  01 
what  she  wishes  him  to  think  of  her,  though  she  will 
have  no  caprices,  and  will  always  treat  him  beautifully, 
and  the  uncertainty  will  make  him  enjoy  himself  more 
than  ever." 

"  Such  a  state  of  bliss,"  said  the  colonel,  "  is  indeed 
greatly  to  be  envied." 

He  was  always  conscious  of  a  rather  dreary  sense  of 
bewilderment  when  he  heard  himself  giving  voice  in  his 
deep  tones  to  such  small  change  as  the  above  remark, 
Under  such  circumstances  there  was  suggested  to  him 
the  idea  that  for  the  mcment  he  had  changed  places 
with  some  more  luckily  facile  creature  and  represented 
him  but  awkwardly.  And  yet,  of  late,  he  had  found 
himself  gradually  bereft  of  all  other  conversational  re- 
source. Since  the  New  Year's  day,  when  Bertha  had 
called  his  attention  to  the  weather,  he  had  seen  in  hor 


290  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

no  vestige  of  what  had  so  moved  him  in  the  brief  &um- 
mer  holiday  in  which  she  had  seemed  to  forget  to  arm 
herself  against  him. 

It  appeared  that  his  place  was  fixed  for  him,  and  that 
nothing  remained  but  to  occupy  it  with  as  good  a  grace 
as  possible.  But  he  knew  he  had  not  borne  it  well  at 
the  outset.  It  was  but  nature  that  he  should  have  borne 
it  ill,  and  have  made  some  effort  at  least  to  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  change  in  her. 

w  All  this  goes  for  nothing,"  he  had  said  to  her ;  but  it 
had  not  gone  for  nothing,  after  all.  A  man  who  loves 
a  woman  with  the  whole  force  of  his  being,  whether  it 
is  happily  or  unhappily,  is  not  a  well-regulated  creature 
wholly  under  his  own  control.  His  imagination  will 
play  him  bitter  tricks  and  taunt  him  many  an  hour, 
both  in  the  bright  day  and  in  the  dead  watches  of  the 
night,  when  he  wakens  to  face  his  misery  alone.  He 
will  see  things  as  they  are  not,  and  be  haunted  by  phan- 
toms whose  vague  outlines  torture  him,  while  he  knows 
their  unreality. 

"It  is  not  true,"  he  will  say.  "It  cannot  be  —  and 
yet  if  it  should  be  —  though  it  is  not." 

A  word,  a  smile,  the  simplest  glance  or  tone,  will 
distort  themselves  until  their  very  slightness  seems  the 
most  damning  proof.  But  that  he  saw  his  own  folly 
and  danger,  there  were  times  on  those  first  days  when 
Tredennis  might  have  been  betrayed  by  his  fierce  sense 
of  injury  into  mistakes  which  it  would  have  been  im- 
possible for  him  to  retrieve  by  any  after  effort.  But  even 
in  the  moments  of  his  greatest  weakness  he  refused  to 
trifle  with  himself.  On  the  night  of  the  New  Year's 
day  when  Bertha  and  Agnes  had  sat  together,  he  nad 
kept  a  vigil  too.  The  occupant  of  the  room  below  his 
had  heurd  him  walking  to  and  fro,  and  had  laid  his 
restlessness  to  a  great  number  of  New  Year's  calls 
instead  of  to  a  guilty  conscience.  But  the  colonel  had 
been  less  lenient  with  himself,  and  had  fought  a  despe- 
battle  in  the  silent  hours. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  291 

u  What  rights  have  I,"  he  had  said,  in  anguish  and 
Humiliation,  —  w  what  rights  have  I  at  the  best?  If  her 
heart  was  as  tender  toward  me  as  it  seems  hard,  that 
would  be  worse  than  all.  It  would  seem  then  that  I 
must  tear  myself  from  her  for  her  sake  as  well  as  for 
my  own.  As  it  is  I  can  at  least  be  near  her,  and  tor- 
ture myself  and  let  her  torture  me,  and  perhaps  some  day 
do  her  some  poor  kindness  of  which  she  knows  nothing. 
Only  I  must  face  the  truth  that  I  have  no  claim  upon 
her  —  none.  If  she  chooses  to  change  her  mood,  why 
should  I  expect  or  demand  an  explanation  ?  The  wife 
of  one  man,  the  —  the  beloved  of  another —  O  Bertha  ! 
Bertha  1  "  And  he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  sat 
so  in  the  darkness,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  misery  he 
seemed  to  hear  again  the  snatch  of  song  she  had  sung 
as  she  sat  on  the  hill-side,  with  her  face  half  upturned 
to  the  blue  sky. 

The  memory  of  that  day,  and  of  some  of  those  which 
had  gone  before  it,  cost  him  more  than  all  else.  It 
came  back  to  him  suddenly  when  he  had  reduced  him- 
self to  a  dead  level  of  feeling ;  once  or  twice,  when  he 
was  with  Bertha  herself,  it  returned  to  him  with  such 
freshness  and  vivid  truth,  that  it  seemed  for  a  moment 
that  a  single  word  would  sweep  every  barrier  away, 
and  they  would  stand  face  to  face,  speaking  the  simple 
truth,  whatever  it  might  be. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  thought.  «  Why  not,  after  all,  if  she 
is  unhappy  and  needs  a  friend,  why  should  it  not  be  the 
man  who  would  bear  either  death  or  life  for  her  ?  "  But 
he  said  nothing  of  this  when  he  spoke  to  her.  After 
their  first  two  or  three  interviews  he  said  less  than 
ever.  Each  of  those  interviews  was  like  the  first.  She 
talked  to  him  as  she  talked  to  Arbuthnot,  to  Planefield, 
to  the  attaches  of  the  legations,  to  the  clever  newspaper 
man  from  New  York  or  Boston,  who  was  brought  in  by 
a  friend  on  one  of  her  evenings,  because  he  wished  to 
see  if  the  paiagraphists  had  overrated  hei  attractions. 
She  paid  him  graceful  conventional  attentions  ;  she  met 


292  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

him  with  a  smile  when  he  entered ;  if  he  was  grave,  sha 
hoped  he  was  not  unwell  or  out  of  spirits ;  she  made 
Qne,  feathery,  jesting  little  speeches,  as  if  she  expected 
them  to  amuse  him  ;  she  gave  him  his  share  of  her  pi  es- 
ence,  of  her  conversation,  of  her  laugh,  and  went  hei 
way  to  some  one  else  to  whom  she  gave  the  same  things. 

w  And  why  should  I  complain  ?  "  he  said. 

But  he  did  complain,  or  some  feverish,  bitter  ache 
in  his  soul  complained  for  him,  and  wrought  him  all 
sorts  of  evil,  and  wore  him  out,  and  deepened  the  lines 
on  his  face,  and  made  him  feel  old  and  hopeless.  He 
was  very  kind  to  Janey  in  those  days  and  spent  a  great 
deal  of  time  with  her.  It  was  Janey  who  was  his 
favorite,  though  he  was  immensely  liberal  to  Jack,  and 
bestowed  upon  Meg,  who  was  too  young  for  him, 
elaborate  and  expensive  toys,  which  she  reduced  to 
fragments  and  dissected  and  analyzed  with  her  brother's 
assistance.  He  used  to  go  to  see  Janey  in  the  nursery 
and  take  her  out  to  walk  and  drive,  and  at  such  times 
felt  rather  glad  that  she  was  not  like  her  mother.  She 
bore  no  likeness  to  Bertha,  and  was  indeed  thought  to 
resemble  the  professor,  who  was  given  to  wondering  at 
her  as  he  had  long  ago  wondered  at  her  mother.  The 
colonel  fancied  that  it  rested  him  to  ramble  about  in 
company  with  this  small  creature.  They  went  to  the 
parks,  hand  in  hand,  so  often  that  the  nurse-maids  who 
took  their  charges  there  began  to  know  them  quite  well, 
the  popular  theory  among  them  being  that  the  colonel 
was  an  interesting  widower,  and  the  little  one  his  mother- 
loss  child.  The  winter  was  a  specially  mild  one,  even 
for  Washington,  and  it  was  generally  pleasant  out  of 
doors,  and  frequently  Janey 's  escort  sat  on  one  of  the 
green  benches  and  read  his  paper  while  she  disported 
herself  on  the  grass  near  him,  or  found  entertainment 
in  propelling  her  family  of  dolls  up  and  down  the  walk 
in  their  carriage.  They  had  long  and  interesting  con- 
versations together,  and  once  or  twice  even  went  to  the 
Capitol  itself,  and  visited  the  House  and  the  Senate, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  293 

deriving  much  pleasuie  and  benefit  from  looking  down 
upon  the  rulers  of  their  country  "  rising  to  points  of 
ordei  "  in  their  customary  awe-inspiring  way.  On  one 
of  these  occasions,  possibly  overpowered  by  the  majesty 
of  the  scene,  Janey  fell  asleep,  and  an  hour  later,  as 
Bertha  stepped  from  her  carriage,  with  cards  and  calling- 
list  in  hand,  she  encountered  a  large,  well-known  figure, 
bearing  in  its  arms,  with  the  most  astonishing  accus- 
tomed gentleness  and  care,  a  supine  little  form,  whose 
head  confidingly  reposed  on  the  broadest  of  shoulders. 

"She  went  to  sleep,"  said  the  colonel,  with  quite  a 
paternal  demeanor. 

He  thought  at  first  that  Bertha  was  going  to  kiss  the 
child.  She  made  a  step  forward,  an  eager  tenderness 
kindling  in  her  eyes,  then  checked  herself  and  laughed, 
half  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

"  May  I  ask  if  you  carried  her  the  entire  length  of  the 
avenue  in  the  face  of  the  multitude?"  she  said.  "You 
were  very  good,  and  displayed  most  delightful  moral 
courage  if  you  did  ;  but  it  must  not  occur  again.  She 
must  not  go  out  without  a  nurse,  if  she  is  so  much 
trouble." 

"She  is  no  trouble,"  he  answered,  "and  it  was  not 
necessary  to  carry  her  the  length  of  Uie  avenue." 

Bertha  went  into  the  house  before  him. 

"  I  will  ring  for  a  nurse,"  she  said  at  the  parlor  door. 
"She  will  be  attended  to — and  you  are  extremely 
amiaole.  I  have  been  calling  all  the  afternoon  and  have 
just  dropped  in  for  Richard,  who  is  going  with  me  to  the 
Drummonds'  musicals." 

But  Tredennis  did  not  wait  for  the  nurse.  He  knew 
the  way  to  the  nursery  well  enough,  and  bore  off  his 
little  burden  to  her  own  domains  sans  cSrdmonie,  while 
Bertha  stood  and  watched  him  from  below. 

If  she  had  been  gay  the  winter  before,  she  was 
gayer  still  now.  She  had  her  afternoon  for  reception 
and  her  evening  at  home,  and  gave,  also,  a  series  of 
more  elaborate  and  formal  entertainments.  At  these 


294  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINIS  TKATION . 

festivities  the  po  itical  element  was  represented  quit* 
brilliantly.  She  professed  to  have  begun  at  last  to  re- 
gard politics  seriously,  and,  though  this  statement  was 
not  received  with  the  most  entire  confidence,  the  most 
i  liberal  encouragement  was  bestowed  upon  her.  Richaid, 
especially,  seemed  to  find  entertainment  in  her  whim. 
He  even  admitted  that  he  himself  took  an  interest  in  the 
affairs  of  the  nation  this  winter.  He  had  been  awakened 
to  it  by  his  intimacy  with  Planefield,  which  increased 
as  the  business  connected  with  the  Westoria  lands  grew 
upon  him.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  this  business  to 
be  transacted,  it  appeared,  though  his  references  to  the 
particular  form  of  his  share  of  it  were  never  very  defi- 
nite, being  marked  chiefly  by  a  brilliant  vagueness 
which,  Bertha  was  wont  to  observe,  added  interest  to 
the  subject. 

"I  should  not  understand  if  you  explained  it,  of 
course,"  she  said.  "And,  as  I  don't  understand,  I  can 
give  play  to  a  naturally  vivid  imagination.  All  sorts 
of  events  may  depend  upon  you.  Perhaps  it  is  even 
necessary  of  you  to  '  lobby,'  and  you  are  engaged  in  all 
sorts  of  machinations.  How  do  people  '  lobby,'  Richard, 
and  is  there  an  opening  in  the  profession  for  a  young 
person  of  undeniable  gifts  and  charms  ?  "  «*** 

In  these  days  Planefield  presented  himself  more  fre- 
quently than  ever.  People  began  to  expect  to  see  his 
large,  florid  figure  at  the  "  evenings  "  and  dinner-parties, 
and  gradually  he  and  his  friends  formed  an  element  in 
them.  It  was  a  new  element,  and  not  altogether  the 
most  delightful  one.  Some  of  the  friends  were  not  re- 
markable for  polish  of  manner  and  familiarity  with  the 
convenances,  and  one  or  two  of  them,  after  they  began 
to  feel  at  ease,  talked  a  good  deal  in  rather  pronounced 
tones,  and  occasionally  enjoyed  themselves  with  a  free- 
dom from  the  shackles  of  ceremony  which  seemed  rather 
to  belong  to  some  atmosphere  other  than  that  of  the 
pretty,  bright  parlors.  But  it  w  uld  not  have  been 
easy  to  determine  what  Bertha  thought  of  the  matter, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  295 

She  accepted  Richard's  first  rather  apologetic  mention 
of  it  gracefully  enough,  and,  after  a  few  evenings,  he  no 
longer  apologized. 

"They  may  be  a  trifle  uncouth,"  he  had  said;  "but 
some  of  them  are  tremendous  fellows  when  you  u  uder- 
etand  them,  — shrewd,  far-seeing  politicians,  who  may 
astonish  the  world  any  day  by  some  sudden,  brilliant 
move.  Such  men  nearly  always  work  their  way  from 
the  ranks,  and  have  had  no  time  to  study  the  graces ; 
but  they  are  very  interesting,  and  will  appreciate  the 
attention  you  show  them.  There  is  that  man  Bowman, 
for  instance,  —  began  life  as  a  boy  in  a  blacksmith's 
shop,  and  has  been  in  Congress  for  years.  They  would 
send  him  to  the  Senate  if  they  could  spare  him.  He  is 
a  positive  mine  of  political  information,  and  knows  the 
Westoria  business  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  They  all  seem  to  know  more  or  less  of  it,"  said 
Bertha.  "  That  is  our  atmosphere  now.  I  am  gradually 
assimilating  information  myself." 

But  Tredennis  did  not  reconcile  himself  to  the  inva- 
sion. He  looked  on  in  restless  resentment.  What 
right  had  such  men  to  be  near  her,  was  his  bitter 
thought.  Being  a  man  himself,  he  knew  more  of  some 
of  them  than  he  could  remember  without  anger  or  dis- 
taste. He  could  not  regard  them  impartially  as  mere 
forces,  forgetting  all  else.  When  he  saw  Planefield  at 
her  side,  bold,  fulsome,  bent  on  absorbing  her  attention 
and  frequently  succeeding  through  sheer  thick-skinned 
pertinacity,  he  was  filled  with  wrathful  repulsion.  This 
man  at  least  he  knew  had  no  right  to  claim  considera- 
tion from  her,  £.nd  yet  somehow  he  seemed  to  have 
established  himself  in  an  intimacy  which  appeared  grad- 
ually to  become  a  part  of  her  every-day  life.  This 
evening,  on  entering  the  house,  he  had  met  him  leaving 
it,  and  when  he  went  into  the  parlor  he  had  seen  upon 
Bertha's  little  work-table  the  customary  sumptuous 
offering  of  Jacqueminot  roses.  She  carried  the  flowers  in 
her  hand  now  —  their  heavy  perfume  filled  the  carriage, 


296  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

w  There  is  no  use  in  asking  why  she  does  it,"  he  wa« 
thinking.  "  I  have  given  up  expecting  to  understand 
ner.  I  suppose  she  has  a  reason.  I  won't  believe  it  is 
as  poor  a  one  as  common  vanity  or  coquetry.  Such 
things  are  beneath  her." 

He  understood  himself  as  little  as  he  undei stood  her. 
There  were  times  when  he  wondered  how  long  his  un- 
happiness  would  last,  and  if  it  would  not  die  a  natural 
death.  No  man's  affection  and  tenderness  could  feed 
upon  nothing  and  survive,  he  told  himself  again  and 
again.  And  what  was  there  to  sustain  his  ?  This  was 
not  the  woman  he  had  dreamed  of,  —  from  her  it  should 
be  easy  enough  for  him  to  shake  himself  free.  What  to 
him  were  her  cleverness,  her  bright  eyes,  her  power 
over  herself  and  others,  the  subtle  charms  and  graces 
tvhich  were  shared  by  all  who  came  near  her?  They 
were  only  the  gift  of  a  finer  order  of  coquette,  who  was 
a  greater  success  than  the  rest  because  nature  had  been 
lavish  with  her.  It  was  not  these  things  which  could 
have  changed  and  colored  all  life  for  him.  If  all  his 
thoughts  of  her  had  been  mere  fancies  it  would  be  only 
natural  that  he  should  outlive  his  experience,  and  Ln 
time  look  back  upon  it  as  simply  an  episode  which  might 
have  formed  a  part  of  the  existence  of  any  man.  There 
had  been  nights  when  he  had  left  the  house,  thinking  it 
would  be  far  better  for  him  never  to  return  if  he  could 
remain  away  without  awakening  comment ;  but,  once  in 
the  quiet  of  his  room,  there  always  came  back  to  him 
memories  and  fancies  he  could  not  rid  himself  of,  and 
which  made  the  scenes  he  had  left  behind  unreal.  He 
used  to  think  it  must  be  this  which  kept  his  tender- 
ness from  dying  a  lingering  death.  When  he  was  alono 
it  seemed  as  if  he  found  himself  face  to  face  again  with 
the  old,  innocent  ideal  that  followed  him  with  tender, 
appealing  eyes  and  would  not  leave  him.  He  began  to 
have  an  odd  fancy  about  the  feeling.  It  was  as  if,  when 
he  left  the  silent  room,  he  left  in  it  the  truth  and  reality 
of  hi3  dream  and  found  them  there  when  be  returned. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  297 

"Why  do  you  look  at  me  so?"  Bertha  said  to  him 
one  night,  ti lining  suddenly  aside  from  the  group  she 
had  been  the  contral  figure  of.  "  You  look  at  me  as  if — 
as  if  I  were  a  gho^t,  and  you  were  ready  to  see  me  van- 
ish into  thin  air." 

He  made  a  slight  movement  as  if  rousing  himself. 

"  That  is  it,"  he  answered.  "  I  am  waiting  to  see  you 
vanish." 

"  But  you  will  not  see  it,"  she  said.  "  You  will  be  dis- 
appointed. I  am  real  —  real !  A  ghost  could  not 
laugh  as  I  do  —  nnd  enjoy  itself.  Its  laugh  would  have 
a  hollow  sound.  I  assure  you  I  am  very  real  indeed." 

But  he  did  not  answer  her,  and,  after  looking  at  him 
with  a  faint  smile  for  a  second  or  so,  she  turned  to  hei 
group  again.  To-night,  as  they  drove  to  their  destina- 
tion, once  or  twice,  in  passing  a  street-lamp,  the  light, 
flashing  into  the  carriage,  showed  him  that  Bertha  leaned 
back  m  her  corner  with  closed  eyes,  her  flowers  lying 
untouched  on  her  lap.  He  thought  she  seemed  languid 
aod  pale,  though  she  had  not  appeared  so  before  they 
left  the  house.  And  this  touched  him,  as  such  things 
always  did.  There  was  no  moment,  however  deep  and 
fierce  his  bewildered  sense  of  injury  might  have  been 
before  it,  when  a  shade  of  pallor  on  her  cheek,  or  of  sad- 
ness in  her  eyes,  a  look  or  tone  of  weariness,  would  not 
undo  everything,  and  stir  all  his  great  heart  with  sym- 
pathy and  the  tender  longing  to  be  kind  to  her.  The 
signs  of  sadness  or  pain  in  any  human  creature  would 
have  moved  him,  but  such  signs  in  her  overwhelmed 
him  and  swept  away  every  other  feeling  but  this  3  earn- 
ing desire  to  shield  and  care  for  her.  He  looked  at  her 
now  with  anxious  eyes  and  bent  forward  to  draw  up  hei 
wrap  which  had  slipped  from  her  shoulders. 

"Are  you  warm  enough,  Bertha?"  he  said,  with  awk- 
ward gentleness.  "It  is  a  raw  night.  You  should  have 
had  more  —  more  shawls  —  or  whatever  they  are." 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  smile. 

*  More  shawls  ! "  she  said.     "  We  don't  wear  shawl* 


298  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

now  wlieii  we  go  to  receptions.  They  are  not  becoming 
enough,  even  when  they  are  very  grand  indeed.  This  is 
not  a  shawl,  —  it  is  a  sortie  du  bal,  and  a  very  pretty  one  » 
but  I  think  I  am  warm  enough,  thank  you,  and  it  was 
very  good  in  you  to  ask."  And  though  he  had  not 
known  that  his  own  voice  was  gentle,  he  recognized 
that  hers  was. 

"  Somebody  ought  to  ask,"  he  answered.  And  just 
then  they  turned  the  corner  into  a  street  already  crowded 
with  carriages,  and  their  own  drew  up  before  the  lighted 
front  of  a  large  house.  Tredennis  got  out  and  gave 
Bertha  his  hand.  As  she  emerged  from  the  shadow  of 
the  carriage,  the  light  fell  upon  her  again,  and  he  was 
impressed  even  more  forcibly  than  before  with  her  pallor. 

"You  would  have  been  a  great  deal  better  at  home,'' 
he  said,  impetuously.  "  Why  did  you  come  here  ?  " 

She  paused  a  second,  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  she 
suddenly  gave  up  some  tense  hold  she  had  previously 
kept  upon  her  external  self.  There  was  only  the  pathetic 
little  ghost  of  a  smile  in  her  lifted  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  should  be  better  at  home,"  she  said,  almost 
in  a  whisper.  w  I  would  rather  be  asleep  with  —  with 
the  children." 

"  Then  why  in  Heaven's  name  do  you  go  ? "  he  pro 
tested.     "  Bertha,  let  me  take  you  home  and  leave  you 
to  rest.     It  must  be  so  —  I  "  — 

But  the  conventionalities  did  not  permit  that  he 
should  give  way  to  the  fine  masculine  impulse  which 
might  have  prompted  him  in  the  heat  of  his  emotions  to 
return  her  to  the  carriage  by  the  sheer  strength  of  his 
unaided  arm,  and  he  recognized  his  OWE  tone  of  com- 
mand, and  checked  himself  with  a  rueful  sense  of  help- 
lessness. 

"There  is  the  carriage  of  the  French  minister,"  said 
Bertha,  "  and  madame  wonders  who  detains  her.  But 
—  if  I  were  a  regiment  of  soldiers,  I  am  sure  I  should 
obey  you  when  you  spoke  to  me  in  such  a  tone  at 
that." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

And  as  if  by  magic  she  was  herself  again,  and,  taking 
her  roses  from  him,  went  up  the  carpeted  steps  lightly, 
and  with  a  gay  rustle  of  trailing  silk  tind  lace. 

The  large  rooms  inside  were  crowded  with  a  distin- 
guished company,  made  up  of  the  material  which  forms 
th3  foundation  of  every  select  Washingtonian  assem- 
blage. There  were  the  politicians,  military  and  naval 
men,  attaches  of  legations,  foreign  ministers  and  mem- 
bers of  the  Cabinet,  with  their  wives  and  daughters,  or 
other  female  relatives.  A  distinguished  scientist  loomed 
up  in  one  corner,  looking  disproportionately  modest ;  a 
well-known  newspaper  man  chatted  in  another.  The 
Chinese  minister,  accompanied  by  his  interpreter,  re- 
ceived with  a  slightly  wearied  air  of  quiet  patience  the 
conversational  attentions  proffered  him.  The  wife  of 
the  Secretary  of  State  stood  near  the  door  with  her 
daughter,  receiving  her  guests  as  they  entered.  She 
was  a  kindly  and  graceful  woman,  whose  good  breeding 
and  self-poise  had  tided  her  safely  over  the  occasionally 
somewhat  ruffled  social  waters  of  two  administrations. 
She  had  received  a  hundred  or  so  of  callers  each 
Wednesday,  —  the  majority  of  them  strangers,  and  in 
the  moments  of  her  greatest  fatigue  and  lassitude  had 
endeavored  to  remember  that  each  one  of  them  was  a 
human  being,  endowed  with  human  vanity  and  sensi- 
tiveness ;  she  had  not  flinched  before  the  innocent  pre- 
sumption of  guileless  ignorance ;  she  had  done  her 
best  by  timorousness  and  simplicity ;  she  had  endeav- 
ored to  remember  hundreds  of  totally  uninteresting 
people,  and  if  she  had  forgotten  one  of  them  who  mod- 
est ly  expected  a  place  in  her  memory  had  made  an 
effort  to  repair  the  injury  with  aptness  and  grace.  She 
had  given  up  pleasures  she  enjoyed  and  repose  she 
needed,  and  had  managed  to  glean  entertainment  and 
interesting  experience  by  the  way,  and  in  course  of  time, 
having  occupied  for  years  one  of  the  highest  social 
positions  in  the  land,  and  done  some  of  the  most  dim* 
cult  and  laborious  work,  would  retire  simply  and  grace 


300  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATIC^ . 

fully,  more  regretted  than  regretting,  and  would  looi 
back  upon  her  experience  more  as  an  episode  in  hei 
husband's  career  than  her  own. 

She  was  one  of  the  few  women  who  produced  in  Pro- 
fessor Herrick  neither  mild  perturbation  nor  mental 
bewilderment.  He  had  been  a  friend  of  her  husband's  in 
his  youth,  and  during  their  residence  in  Washington  it 
had  been  his  habit  to  desert  his  books  and  entomological 
specimens  once  or  twice  in  the  season  for  the  purpose  of 
appearing  in  their  parlors.  There  was  a  legend  that  he 
had  once  presented  himself  with  a  large  and  valuable 
beetle  pinned  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  he  having  absent- 
mindedly  placed  it  in  that  conspicuous  position  in  mistake 
for  the  flower  Bertha  had  suggested  he  should  decorate 
himself  with. 

He  was  among  the  guests  to-night,  her  hostess  told 
Bertha,  as  she  shook  hands  with  her. 

"  We  were  very  much  pleased  to  see  him,  though  we 
do  not  think  he  looks  very  well,"  she  said.  "  I  think 
you  will  find  him  talking  to  Professor  Borrowdale,  who 
has  just  returned  from  Central  America." 

She  gave  Bertha  a  kind  glance  of  scrutiny. 

"  Are  yvu,  looking  very  well  ?  "  she  said.  "  I  am  afraid 
you  are  not.  That  is  not  a  good  way  to  begin  a  season." 

w  I  am  afraid,"  said  Bertha,  laughing,  "  that  I  have  not 
chosen  my  dress  well.  Colonel  Tredennis  told  me,  a 
few  moments  ago,  that  I  ought  to  be  at  home." 

They  passed  on  shortly  afterward,  and,  on  the  way  to 
the  other  room,  Bertha  was  unusually  silent.  Tredennis 
wondered  what  she  was  thinking  of,  until  ghe  suddenly 
looked  up  at  him  and  spoke. 

"  Am  I  so  very  haggard  ?  "  she  said, 

*  I  should  not  call  it  haggard,"  he  answered.  "  Yon 
don't  look  very  well." 

She  gave  her  cheek  a  little  rub  with  her  gloved 
hand. 

"  No  ;  you  should  not  call  it  haggard,"  she  said,  w  that 
U  true.  It  is  bad  enough  not  to  look  well.  One  fhouJd 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  301 

always  have  a  little  rouge  in  one's  pocket.  But  you 
will  see  that  the  excitement  will  do  ine  good." 

«  Will  it,  Bertha?"  said  tie  colonel. 

But,  whether  the  effect  it  produced  upon  her  was  a 
good  or  bad  one,  it  was  certainly  strong  enough.  The 
room  was  full  of  people  she  knew  or  wished  to  know, 
She  was  stopped  at  every  step  by  those  who  spoke  to 
her,  exchanging  gay  speeches  with  her,  paying  her  com- 
pliments, giving  her  greeting.  Dazzling  young  dandies 
forgot  their  indifference  to  the  adulation  of  the  multitude, 
in  their  eagerness  to  make  their  bows  and  their  bon  mots 
before  her;  their  elders  and  superiors  were  as  little 
backward  as  themselves,  and  in  a  short  time  she  had 
gathered  quite  a  little  court  about  her,  in  which  there 
was  laughter  and  badinage,  and  an  exhilarating  exchange 
of  gayeties.  The  celebrated  scientist  joined  the  circle, 
the  newspaper  man  made  his  way  into  it,  and  a  stately, 
gray-haired  member  of  the  Supreme  Bench  relaxed  his 
grave  face  in  it,  and  made  more  clever  and  gallant 
speeches  than  all  his  younger  rivals  put  together ;  it  was 
even  remarked  that  the  Oriental  visage  of  the  Chinese 
ambassador  himself  exhibited  an  expression  of  more  than 
slight  curiosity  and  interest.  He  addressed  a  few  words 
to  his  interpreter  as  he  passed.  But  somehow  Colonel 
Tredennis  found  himself  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  en- 
chanted ground.  It  was  his  own  fault,  perhaps.  Yes, 
it  was  his  own  fault,  without  a  doubt.  Such  changes 
were  too  rapid  for  him,  as  he  himself  had  said  before. 
He  did  not  understand  them ;  they  bewildered  and 
wounded  him,  and  gave  him  a  sense  of  insecurity,  seem- 
ing to  leave  him  nothing  to  rely  on.  Was  it  possible 
that  sadness  or  fatigue  which  could  be  so  soon  set  asido 
and  lost  sight  of  could  be  very  real  ?  And  if  these  things 
which  had  so  touched  his  heart  were  unreal  and  caprices 
of  the  moment,  what  was  there  left  which  might  not  be 
unreal  too?  Could  she  look  pale,  and  make  her  voice 
and  her  little  hand  tremulous  at  will  when  she  chose  to 
produce  an  effect,  and  why  should  it  please  her  to  pro- 


302  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

duce  effects  upon  him?  She  had  never  cared  for  himv 
or  shown  kindness  or  friendly  feeling  for  him,  but  in 
those  few  brief  days  in  Virginia.  Was  she  so  flippant, 
such  a  coquette  and  trifler  that,  when  there  was  no  one 
els 3  to  play  her  pretty  tricks  upon,  she  must  try  them 
on  him  and  work  upon  his  sympathies  in  default  of  be- 
ing able  to  teach  him  the  flatteries  and  follies  uf  men 
who  loved  her  less  ?  He  had  heard  of  women  who  were 
so  insatiable  in  their  desire  for  sensation  that  they  would 
stoop  to  such  things,  but  he  did  not  believe  he  had  ever 
met  one.  Perhaps  he  had  met  several,  and  had  been  too 
ingenuous  and  generous  to  understand  their  wiles  and 
arts.  At  any  rate,  they  had  always  been  myths  to  him, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  himself,  as  well  as  all  ex- 
istence, must  have  changed  when  he  could  even  wonder 
if  such  a  thing  might  be  true  of  Bertha.  But  nothing 
could  be  more  certain  than  that  there  were  no  longer  any 
traces  of  her  weariness  about  her.  A  brilliant  color 
glowed  in  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  were  as  bright  as  dia- 
monds, there  was  something,  —  some  vividness  about 
her  before  which  every  other  woman  in  the  room  paled 
a  little,  though  there  were  two  or  three  great  beauties 
present,  and  she  had  never  taken  the  attitude  of  a  beauty 
at  all.  The  colonel  began  to  see,  at  last,  that  there 
was  a  shade  of  something  else,  too,  in  her  manner,  from 
which  it  had  always  before  been  free.  In  the  midst  of 
all  her  frivolities  she  had  never  been  reckless,  and  there 
had  never  been  any  possibility  that  the  looker-on  could 
bear  away  with  him  any  memory  which  had  not  the 
charm  of  fineness  about  it.  But  to-night,  as  one  man 
hung  over  her  chair,  and  others  stood  around  and  about 
it,  one  holding  her  fan,  another  wearing  in  his  coat  a 
rose  which  had  fallen  from  her  bouquet,  all  sharing  her 
smiles  and  vying  in  their  efforts  to  win  them,  Tredennis 
turned  away  more  than  once  with  a  heavy  heart. 

*  I  would  go  home  if  I  could  leave  her,"  he  said.  "  1 
Jon't  want  to  see  this.  I  don't  know  wrat  it  means. 
This  is  no  place  for  me." 


THROLGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  303 

But  he  could  not  leave  her,  and  so  lingered  about 
and  looked  on,  and  when  he  was  spoken  to  answered 
briefly  and  abstractedly,  scarcely  knowing  what  he 
said.  \  There  was  no  need  that  he  should  have  felt  him- 
self desolate,  since  there  were  numbers  of  pretty  and 
charming  women  .n  the  rooms  who  would  have  been 
pleased  to  talk  to  him,  and  who,  indeed,  showed  some- 
thing of  this  kindly  inclination  when  they  found  them- 
selves near  him ;  his  big,  soldierly  figure,  his  fine 
sun-browned  face,  his  grave  manner,  and  the  stories 
they  heard  of  him,  made  him  an  object  of  deep  interest 
to  women,  though  he  had  never  recognized  the  fact. 
They  talked  of  him  and  wondered  about  him,  and  made 
up  suitable  little  romances  which  accounted  for  his 
silence  and  rather  stern  air  of  sadness.  The  favorite 
theory  was  that  he  had  been  badly  treated  in  his  early 
youth  by  some  soulless  young  person  totally  unworthy 
of  the  feeling  he  had  lavished  upon  her,  and  there  were 
two  or  three  young  persons  —  perhaps  even  a  larger 
number  —  who,  secretly  conscious  of  their  own  worthi- 
ness of  any  depth  of  affection,  would  not  have  been 
loath  to  bind  up  his  wounds  and  pour  oil  upon  them 
and  frankincense  and  myrrh,  if  such  applications  would 
have  proved  effectual.  There  were  among  these  some 
very  beautiful  and  attractive  young  creatures  indeed, 
and  as  their  parents  usually  shared  their  interest  in  the 
colonel,  he  was  invited  to  kettledrums  and  musicales, 
and  theatre  parties  and  dinners,  and  always  welcomed 
warmly  when  he  was  encountered  anywhere.  But 
though  he  received  these  attentions  with  the  simple 
courtesy  and  modest  appreciation  of  all  kindness  which 
were  second  nature  with  him,  and  though  he  paid  his 
party  calls  with  the  most  unflinching,  conventional 
promptness,  and  endeavored  to  return  the  hospitalities 
in  masculine  fashion  by  impartially  sending  bouquets  to 
mammas  and  daughters  alike,  it  frequently  happened 
that  various  reasons  prevented  his  appearing  at  the 
parties ;  or  if  he  appeared  he  disappeared  quite  early ; 


304  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

and,  indeed,  if  he  had  been  any  other  man  he  would 
have  found  it  difficult  to  make  his  peace  with  the  young 
lady  who  discovered  that  the  previous  engagement 
which  had  kept  him  away  from  her  kettledrum  had 
been  a  promise  made  to  little  Janey  Amory  that  he 
would  take  her  to  see  Tom  Thumb. 

"  It  is  very  kind  in  you  to  give  us  any  of  your  time 
at  all,"  Bertha  had  said  to  him  once,  "  when  you  are  in 
such  demand.  Richard  tells  me  your  table  is  strewn 
with  invitations,  and  there  is  not  a  belle  of  his  acquaint- 
ance who  is  so  besieged  with  attentions.  Mr.  Arbuth- 
not  is  filled  with  envy.  He  has  half-a-dozen  new  songs 
which  he  plays  without  music,  and  he  has  learned  all 
the  new  dances,  and  yet  is  not  invited  half  so  much." 

"  It  is  my  conversational  powers  they  want,"  was  the 
colonel's  sardonic  reply. 

"That  goes  without  saying,"  responded  Bertha. 
w  And  if  you  would  only  condescend  to  waltz,  pooi 
Laurence's  days  of  usefulness  would  be  over.  Won'1 
you  be  persuaded  to  let  me  give  you  a  lesson?" 

And  she  came  toward  him  with  mocking  in  her  eyes 
and  her  hands  extended. 

But  the  colonel  blushed  up  to  the  roots  of  his  hair 
and  did  not  take  them. 

"  I  should  tread  on  your  slippers,  and  knock  off  the 
buckles,  and  grind  them  into  powder,"  he  said.  "  I 
should  tear  your  gown  and  lacerate  your  feelings,  and 
you  could  not  go  to  the  German  to-night.  I  am  afraid 
I  am  not  the  size  for  waltzing." 

"  You  are  the  size  for  anything  and  everything,"  sail 
Bertha,  with  an  exaggerated  little  obeisance.  "It is  we 
who  are  so  small  that  we  appear  insignificant  by  ccn- 
tiast." 

This,  indeed,  was  the  general  opinion,  that  his  stal- 
wart proportions  were  greatly  to  his  advantage,  and 
only  to  be  admired.  Among  those  who  admired  them 
most  were  graceful  young  waltzer^,  who  would  have 
given  up  that  delightful  and  exhilarating  exercise  on  any 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  305 

occasion,  if  Colonel  Tredennis  would  have  sat  out  with 
them  in  some  quiet  corner,  where  the  eyes  of  a  censo- 
rious world  might  be  escaped.  Several  such  we  re  pres- 
ent to-night,  and  cast  slightly  wistful  glances  at  him  a* 
they  passed  to  and  fro,  or  deftly  managed  to  arrange 
little  opportunities  for  conversations  which,  however, 
did  not  flourish  and  grow  strong  even  when  the  oppor- 
tunities were  made.  It  was  not  entertainment  of  this 
sort  —  innocent  and  agreeable  as  it  might  be  —  that 
Colonel  Tredennis  wanted.  It  would  be  difficult  to  say 
exactly  what  he  wanted,  indeed,  or  what  satisfaction  he 
obtained  from  standing  gnawing  his  great  mustache 
among  Mrs.  Amory's  more  versatile  and  socially  gifted 
adorers. 

He  did  not  want  to  be  a  witness  of  her  coquetries — they 
were  coquetries,  though  to  the  sophisticated  they  might 
appear  only  delightful  ones,  and  a  very  proper  exercise 
of  feminine  fasci nation  upon  their  natural  prey ;  but  to  this     /  ^ 
masculine  prude,  who  unhappily  loved  her  and  had  no     I/ 
honest  rights  in  her,  and  whose  very  affection  was  an 
emotion  against  which  his  honor  must  struggle,  it  was 
a  humiliation  that  others  should  look  on  and  see  that  she 
could  so  amuse  herself. 

So  he  stood  on  the  outer  edge  of  the  little  circle,  and 
was  so  standing  when  he  first  caught  sight  of  the 
professor  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  room.  He  left  his 
place  then  and  went  over  to  him.  The  sight  of  the  re- 
fined, gentle,  old  face  brought  to  him  something  border- 
ing on  a  sense  of  relief.  It  removed  a  little  of  his  totally 
unreasonable  feeling  of  friendlessness  and  isolation. 

w  I  have  been  watching  you  across  the  room,"  the 
professor  said,  kindly.  "  1  wondered  what  you  were 
thinking  about?  You  looked  fierce,  my  boy,  and 
melancholy.  I  think  there  were  two  or  three  young 
ladies  who  thought  you  very  picturesque  as  you  stared 
at  the  floor  and  pulled  your  mustache,  but  it  seemed  tc 
me  that  your  air  was  hardly  gay  enough  for  a  brilliant 


306  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  I  was  thinking  I  was  out  of  place  and  wish.ng  I  was 
at  home,"  replied  the  colonel,  with  a  short  laugh,  un- 
consciously pulling  his  mustache  again.  "  And  I  dare  say 
I  was  wishing  I  had  Mrs.  Amory's  versatility  of  gifts 
and  huincr.  I  thought  she  was  tired  and  unwell  when 
I  helped  her  out  of  the  carriage  ;  but  it  seems  that  I  was 
mistaken,  or  that  the  atmosphere  of  the  great  world  has 
a  most  inspiring  effect." 

The  professor  turned  his  spectacles  upon  the  corner 
Tredennis  had  just  left. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  remarked  quietly  ;  "  it  is  Bertha,  is  it  ?  I 
fancied  it  might  be,  though  it  was  not  easy  to  see  her 
face,  on  account  of  the  breadth  of  Commander  Barnacles' 
back.  And  it  was  you  who  came  with  her  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Tredennis. 

"I  rather  expected  to  see  Mr.  Arbuthnot,"  said  the 
professor.  "I  think  Richard  gave  me  the  impression 
that  I  should." 

"We  saw  Mr.  Arbuthnot  just  before  we  left  the 
house,"  returned  the  colonel.  "He  had  been  calling 
upon  Mrs.  Sylvestre." 

"Upon  Mrs.  Sylvestre!"  echoed  the  professor,  and 
then  he  added,  rather  softly,  "  Ah,  she  is  another." 

"  Another  !  "  Tredennis  repeated. 

"  I  only  mean,"  said  the  professor,  "that  I  am  at  my 
old  tricks  again.  I  am  wondering  what  will  happen 
now  to  that  beautiful,  graceful  young  woman." 

He  turned  his  glance  a  little  suddenly  upon  Treden- 
uis'  face. 

"Have  you  been  to  see  her?"  he  inquired. 

"  Not  yet." 

"Why  not  yet?" 

"Perhaps  because  she  is  too  beautiful  and  graceful," 
Tredennis  answered.  "I  don't  know  of  any  other 
reason.  I  have  not  sufficient  courage." 

"Mr.  Arbuthnot  has  sufficient  courage,"  said  the  pro- 
fessor. "  And  some  of  those  gentlemen  across  the  room 
would  not  shrink  from  the  ordeal.  They  will  all  go  to 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  307 

see  her,  —  Commander  Barnacles  included,  —  and  she 
will  be  kind  to  them  every  one.  She  would  be  kind  to 
me  if  I  went  to  see  her  —  and  some  day  I  think  I  shall. " 

He  glanced  across  at  Bertha.  She  was  talking  to 
Commander  Barnacles,  who  was  exhibiting  as  much 
chivalric  vivacity  as  his  breadih  would  allow.  The  real 
of  her  circle  were  listening  and  laughing,  people  outside 
it  were  looking  at  her  with  interest  and  curiosity. 

"She  is  very  gay  to-night,"  the  professor  added, 
"And  I  dare  say  Mrs.  Sylvestre  could  give  us  a  better 
reason  for  her  gayety  than  we  can  see  on  the  surface." 

w  Is  there  always  a  reason  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  For 
the  moment  he  was  pleasing  himself  with  the  fancy  that 
he  was  hardening  his  heart. 

But  just  at  this  moment  a  slight  stir  at  one  of  the 
entrances  attracted  universal  attention.  The  President 
had  come  in,  and  was  being  welcomed  by  his  host  and 
hostess.  He  presented  to  the  inspection  of  those  to 
whom  he  was  not  already  a  familiar  object,  the  unim- 
posing  figure  of  a  man  past  middle  life,  his  hair  griz- 
zled, his  face  lined,  his  expression  a  somewhat  fatigued 
one. 

"  Yes,  he  looks  tired,"  said  Bertha  to  the  newspaper 
man  who  stood  near  her,  "  though  it  is  rather  unreason- 
able in  him.  He  has  nothing  to  do  but  satisfy  the 
demands  of  two  political  parties  who  hate  each  other, 
and  to  retrieve  the  blunders  made  during  a  few  score 
years  by  his  predecessors,  and  he  has  four  years  to  do 
it  in  —  and  every  one  will  give  him  advice.  I  wonder 
how  he  likes  it,  and  if  he  realizes  what  has  happened  to 
him.  If  he  were  a  king  and  had  a  crown  to  look  at  and 
try  on  in  his  moments  of  uncertainty,  or  if  he  were 
obliged  to  attire  himself  in  velvet  and  ermine  occasion- 
ally, he  might  persuade  himself  that  he  was  real ;  but 
how  can  he  do  so  when  he  never  wrears  anything  but  an 
ordinary  coat,  and  cannot  cut  people's  heads  off,  or  bow- 
string them,  and  hasn't  a  dungeon  about  him?  Perhaps 
he  feels  as  if  he  is  imposing  on  us  and  is  secretly  a  littl» 


JOS  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

ashamed  of  himself.  I  wonder  if  he  is  not  haunted  bj 
a  disagi  eeable  ghost  who  persists  in  re  minding  him  of 
the  day  when  he  will  only  be  an  abject  ex-President  and 
we  shall  pity  where  we  don't  condemn  him ;  and  he 
will  be  dragged  to  the  Capitol  in  the  triumphal  car  of 
the  new  one  and  know  that  he  has  awakened  from  hia 
dream ;  or,  perhaps,  he  will  call  it  a  nightmare  and  be 
glad  it  is  O7er." 

"  That  is  Planefield  who  came  in  with  him,"  said  hex 
companion.  "  He  would  not  object  to  suffer  from  a 
nightmare  of  the  same  description." 

"  Would  he  be  willing  to  dine  off  the  indigestibles  most 
likely  to  produce  it ?"  said  Bertha.  "You  have  indi- 
gestibles on  your  political  menu,  I  suppose.  I  have 
heard  so,  and  that  they  are  not  always  easy  to  swallow 
because  the  cooks  at  the  Capitol  differ  so  about  the 
flavoring." 

"  Planefield  would  not  differ,"  was  the  answer.  w  And 
he  would  dine  off  them,  and  breakfast  and  sup  off  them, 
and  get  up  in  the  night  to  enjoy  them,  if  he  could  only 
bring  about  the  nightmare." 

"  Is  there  any  possibility  that  he  will  accomplish  it  ?  " 
Bertha  inquired.  "  If  there  is,  I  must  be  very  kind  to 
him  when  he  comes  to  speak  to  me.  I  feel  a  sort  of 
eagerness  to  catch  his  eye  and  nod  and  beck  and  bestow 
wreathed  smiles  upon  him  already ;  but  don't  let  my 
modest  thrift  waste  itself  upon  a  mere  phantasy  if  the 
prospect  is  that  the  indigestibles  will  simply  disagree 
with  him  and  will  not  produce  the  nightmare."  And  the 
colonel,  who  was  just  approaching  with  the  professor, 
heard  her  and  was  not  more  greatly  elated  than  before. 

It  was  not  very  long,  of  course,  before  there  was  an 
addition  to  the  group.  Senator  Planefield  found  hia 
way  to  it  —  to  the  very  centre  of  it,  indeed,  — and  so 
long  as  it  remained  a  group  formed  a  permanent  feature 
in  its  attractions.  When  he  presented  himself  Bertha 
gave  him  her  hand  with  a  mcst  bewitching  little  smile, 
whose  suggestion  of  archness  was  somehow  made  to  in 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  30P 

elude  the  gentleman  with  whom  she  had  previously  been 
talking.  Her  manner  was  so  gracious  and  inspiring 
that  Planefield  was  intoxicated  by  it  and  wondered  what 
it  meant.  He  was  obliged  to  confess  to  himself  that 
there  were  many  occasions  when  she  was  not  so  gracious, 
and  if  he  had  been  easily  rebuffed,  the  wounds  his 
flourishing  and  robust  vanity  received  might  have  led 
him  to  retire  from  the  field.  Frequently,  when  he  was 
most  filled  with  admiration  of  her  cleverness  and  spirit, 
he  was  conscious  of  an  uneasy  sense  of  distrust,  not  only 
of  her,  but  of  himself.  There  was  one  special,  innocent, 
and  direct  gaze  of  which  her  limpid  eyes  were  capable, 
which  sometimes  m.  de  him  turn  hot  and  cold  with  un- 
certainty, and  there  was  also  a  peculiarly  soft  and  quiet 
tone  in  her  voice  which  invariably  filled  him  with  per- 
turbation. 

w  She's  such  a  confounded  cool  little  devil,"  he  had 
said,  gracefully,  to  a  friend  on  one  occasion  when  he  was 
in  a  bad  humor.  "  She's  afraid  of  nothing,  and  she's 
got  such  a  hold  on  herself  that  she  can  say  anything  she 
likes,  with  a  voice  as  soft  as  silk,  and  look  you  straight 
in  the  eyes  like  a  baby  while  she  does  so ;  and  when 
you  say  the  words  over  to  yourself  you  can't  find  a 
thing  to  complain  of,  while  you  know  they  drove  home 
like  knives  when  she  said  them  herself.  She  looks  like 
a  school-girl  half  the  time ;  but  she's  made  up  of  steel 
and  iron,  and  — the  devil  knows  what." 

She  did  not  look  like  a  school-girl  this  evening,  — 
she  was  far  too  brilliant  and  self-possessed  and  enter- 
taining ;  but  he  had  nothing  to  complain  of  and  plenty 
to  congratulate  himself  upon.  She  allowed  him  to  take 
the  chair  near  her  which  its  occupant  reluctantly  vacated 
for  him ;  she  placed  no  obstacles  in  the  way  of  his  con- 
versational desires,  and  she  received  all  his  jokes  with 
the  most  exhilarating  laughter.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
of  all  this  that  he  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  so 
pretty,  so  well  dressed,  and  so  inspiring.  When  he 
told  her  so,  in  a  clumsy  whisper,  a  sudden  red  flushed 


310  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

her  cheek,  her  eyes  fell,  and  she  did  not  reply,  as  h« 
had  feared  she  would,  with  a  keen  little  two-ecged 
jest  far  more  discouraging  than  any  disj  leasure  at  his 
boldness  would  have  been.  He  could  scarcely  believe 
the  evidence  of  his  senses ,  and  found  it  necessary  to  re- 
main silent  a  few  seconds  to  give  himself  time  to  recover 
his  equilibrium.  It  was  he  who  was  with  her  when 
Tredennis  saw  her  presentation  to  the  President,  who, 
it  was  said,  had  observed  her  previously  and  was 
pleased,  after  the  interview  was  over,  to  comment  admir- 
ingly upon  her  and  ask  various  questions  concerning 
her.  It  doubtless  befell  His  Excellency  to  be  called 
upon  to  be  gracious  and  ready  of  speech  when  con- 
fronted with  objects  less  inspiring  than  this  young  per- 
son, and  it  might  have  been  something  of  this  sort  which 
caused  him  to  wear  a  more  relaxed  countenance  and 
smile  more  frequently  than  before  when  conversing 
with  her,  and  also  to  appear  to  be  in  no  degree  eager 
to  allow  her  to  make  her  bow  and  withdraw. 

It  was  just  after  she  had  been  permitted  to  make  this 
obeisance  and  retire  that  Colonel  Tredennis,  standing 
near  a  group  of  three  persons,  heard  her  name  mentioned 
and  had  his  ears  quickened  by  the  sound. 

The  speakers  were  a  man  and  two  women. 

"  Her  name,"  he  heard  a  feminine  voice  say,  "  is 
Amory.  She  is  a  little  married  woman  who  flirts." 

"Oh  !  "  exclaimed  the  man,  "that  is  Mrs.  Amory,  is 
jt —  the  little  Mrs.  Amory?  And  —  yes  —  that  is 
Planefield  with  her  now.  He  generally  is  with  her, 
isn't  he?" 

"  At  present,"  was  the  answer.     *  Yes." 

Tho  colonel  felt  his  blood  warming.  He  began  to 
think  he  recognized  the  voice  of  the  first  speaker,  and 
when  he  turned  found  he  was  not  mistaken.  It  belonged 
to  the  "  great  lady  "  who  had  figured  prominently  in  the 
cheery  little  encounter  whose  story  had  been  related 
with  such  vivacity  the  first  evening  he  had  dined  with 
the  Amory s.  She  had,  perhaps,  not  enjoyed  this  en- 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  311 

counter  as  impartially  as  had  her  opponent,  anl  had 
probably  not  forgotten  it  so  soon.  She  wore  the  counte- 
nance of  a  woman  with  an  excellent  memory,  and  not 
totally  devoid  of  feminine  prejudice.  Perhaps  she  had 
been  carrying  her  polished  little  stone  in  her  pocket,  and 
turning  it  occasionally  ever  since  the  memorable  occasion 
when  justice  had  been  meted  out  to  her  not  so  largely 
tempered  with  mercy  as  the  faultless  in  character  might 
have  desired. 

"  The  matter  gives  rise  to  all  the  more  comment,"  she 
remarked,  "  because  it  is  something  no  one  would  have 
expected.  Her  family  is  entirely  respectable.  She  was 
a  Miss  Herrick,  and  though  she  has  always  been  a  gay 
little  person,  she  has  been  quite  cleverly  prudent.  Her 
acquaintances  are  only  just  beginning  to  realize  the  state 
of  affairs,  and  there  is  a  great  division  of  opinion,  of 
course.  The  Westoria  lands  have  dazzled  the  husband, 
it  is  supposed,  as  he  is  a  person  given  to  projects,  and 
he  has  dazzled  her  —  and  the  admirer  is  to  be  made  use 
of."  ' 

The  man  —  a  quiet,  elderly  man,  with  an  astutely 
humorous  countenance  —  glanced  after  Bertha  as  she  dis- 
appeared into  the  supper-room.  She  held  her  roses  to 
her  face,  and  her  eyes  smiled  over  them  as  Planefield 
bent  to  speak  to  her. 

"  It  is  a  tremendous  affair,  —  that  Westoria  business," 
he  said  "  And  it  is  evident  she  has  dazzled  the  ad- 
mirers. There  is  a  good  deal  of  life  and  color,  and  — 
audacity  about  her,  isn't  there  ?  " 

"There  is  plenty  of  audacity,"  responded  his  companion 
with  calmness.  "  I  think  that  would  be  universally  ad- 
mitted, though  it  is  occasionally  referred  to  as  wit  and 
self-possession . " 

"But  she  has  been  very  much  liked,"  timorously  sug- 
gested the  third  member  of  the  group,  who  was  younger 
and  much  less  imposing.  "  And  —  and  I  feel  sure  1 
have  heard  women  admire  her  as  often  as  men." 

"  A  great  deal  may  be  accomplished  by  cleverness  and 


312  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

prudence  of  that  particular  kind,"  was  the  answei, 
w  And,  as  I  said,  she  has  been  both  prudent  and  clever/ 

"  It  isn't  pleasant  to  think  about,"  remarked  the  man. 
"She  will  lose  her  friends  and  —  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
and  may  gain  nothing  in  the  end.  But  I  suppose  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  that  sort  of  thing  going  on  here.  We 
outsiders  hear  it  said  so,  and  are  given  to  believing  the 
statement." 

"  It  does  not  usually  occur  in  the  class  to  which  this 
case  belongs,"  was  the  response.  "  The  female  lobbyist 
*  is  generally  not  so  —  not  so  "  — 

"Not  so  picturesque  as  she  is  painted,"  ended  her 
companion  with  a  laugh.  w  Well,  I  consider  myself  all 
the  moro  fortunate  in  having  seen  this  one  who  ii 
picturesque ,  and  has  quite  a  charming  natural  color  of 


aer  owa  " 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  313 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THEY  moved  away  and  went  to  the  supper-room 
themselves,  leaving  Tredennis  to  his  reflections.  What 
these  were  he  scarcely  knew  himself  for  a  few  seconds. 
The  murmur  of  voices  and  passing  to  and  fro  confused 
him.  For  half  an  hour  of  quiet  in  some  friendly  corner, 
where  none  could  see  his  face,  he  felt  that  he  would  have 
given  a  year  or  so  of  his  life  —  perhaps  a  greater  num- 
ber of  years  than  a  happier  man  would  have  been  willing 
to  part  with.  It  was  of  Bertha  these  people  had  been 
speaking  —  of  Bertha,  and  it  was  Bertha  he  could  see 
through  the  open  doors  of  the  supper-room,  eating  ices, 
listening  to  compliment  and  laughter  and  jest  I  It  was 
Planefield  who  was  holding  her  flowers,  and  the  man  who 
had  just  picked  up  her  fan  was  one  of  his  friends ;  in 
two  or  three  others  near  her,  Tredennis  recognized  his 
issociates :  it  seemed  as  if  the  ground  had  been  ceded 
o  them  by  those  who  had  at  first  formed  her  little  court. 

Tredennis  was  seized  with  a  wild  desire  to  make  his 
^ay  into  their  midst,  take  her  hand  in  his  arm,  and  com- 
pel her  to  come  away  —  to  leave  them  all,  to  let  him 
take  her  home  —  to  safety  and  honor  and  her  children. 
He  was  so  filled  with  the  absurd  impulse  that  he  took 
half  a  step  forward,  stopping  and  smiling  bitterly,  when 
he  realized  what  he  was  prompted  to  do. 

"  How  she  would  like  it,"  he  thought,  "  and  like  me 
for  doing  it ;  and  what  a  paragraph  it  would  make  for 
the  society  column  !  " 

Incidents  which  had  occurred  within  the  last  few 
weeks  came  back  to  him  with  a  significance  they  had 
never  before  borne.  Speeches  and  moods  of  Richard's, 
things  he  had  done,  occasional  unconscious  displays  of 
eagerness  to  please  Planefield  and  cultivate  him,  hia 


314  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

manner  U  ward  Bertha,  and  certain  touches  of  uneasi 
ness  when  she  was  not  at  her  best. 

From  the  first  the  colonel  had  not  felt  himself  as 
entirely  prepossessed  by  this  amiable  and  charming 
young  man  as  he  desired  to  be,  and  he  had  been  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  he  was  not  always  pleased  by  his 
gay  good-humor,  evanescent  enthusiasms,  and  by  his 
happy,  irresponsible  fashion  of  looking  at  life.  When 
he  had  at  last  made  this  confession  to  himself  he  had  not 
shrunk  from  giving  himself  an  explanation  of  the  matter, 
from  which  a  nature  more  sparing  of  itself  would  have 
flinched.  He  had  said  that  his  prejudice  was  one  to 
blush  at  and  conquer  by  persistent  effort,  and  he  had 
done  his  sternly  honest  best  to  subdue  it.  But  he  had 
not  succeeded  as  he  had  hoped  he  should.  When  he 
fancied  he  was  making  progress  and  learning  to  be  fair, 
some  trifle  continually  occurred  which  made  itself  an 
obstacle  in  his  path.  He  saw  things  he  did  not  wish  to 
see,  and  heard  things  he  did  not  wish  to  hear, — little 
things  which  made  him  doubt  and  ponder,  and  which 
somehow  he  could  not  shake  off,  even  when  he  tried  to 
forget  them  and  persuade  himself  that,  after  all,  they 
were  of  slight  significance.  And  as  he  had  seen  more 
of  the  gay  good-humor  and  readiness  to  be  moved,  his 
first  shadowy  feeling  had  assumed  more  definite  form. 
He  had  found  himself  confronted  by  a  distrust  which 
grew  upon  him ;  he  had  met  the  young  man's  smiling 
eyes  with  a  sense  of  being  repelled  by  their  very  candor 
and  brightness ;  he  had  ler.rned  that  they  were  not  so 
candid  as  they  seemed,  and  that  his  boyish  frankness 
was  n:>t  always  to  be  relied  upon.  He  had  discovered 
that  he  was  ready  to  make  a  promise  and  forget  it ;  that 
his  impressionable  mind  could  shift  itself  and  change  ita 
color,  and  that  somehow  its  quickness  of  action  had  a 
fashion  of  invariably  tending  toward  the  accomplishment 
of  some  personal  end,  —  a  mere  vagary  or  graceful  whim, 
perhaps »  but  always  a  fancy  pertaining  to  the  indulgence 
of  self.  Tredonnis  had  heard  him  lie,  —not  wickedly  01 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  315 

awkwardly,  so  far;  but  with  grace  and  freedom  from 
embarrassment.  It  was  his  accidental  detection  of  one 
of  the  most  trivial  and  ready  of  these  falsehoods  which 
had  first  roused  him  t3  distrust.  He  remembered  now, 
as  by  a  flash,  that  it  had  been  a  lie  nbout  PlanefieU,  and 
that  it  had  been  told  to  Bertha.  He  had  wondered  at 
the  time  what  its  object  could  be ;  nc  w  he  thought  he 
saw,  and  in  a  measure  comprehended  ,he  short-sighted 
folly  which  had  caused  the  weak,  easily  swayed  nature 
to  drift  into  such  danger. 

"He   does   not   realize   what  he  is  doing,"  was   his 
thought.     "He  would  lie  to  me  if  I  accused  him  of  it." 

Of  these  two  things  he  was  convinced :  that  the  first 
step  had  been  merely  one  of  many  whims,  whatever  the 
results  following  might  be,  and  that  no  statement  or 
promise  Amory  might  make  could  be  relied  on.  There 
was  no  knowing  what  he  had  done  or  what  he  would  do. 
As  he  had  found  entertainment  in  the  contents  of  the 
"museum,"  so  it  was  as  probable  he  had,  at  the  out- 
set, amused  himself  with  his  fancies  concerning  the 
Westoria  lands,  which  had,  at  last,  so  far  fascinated  and 
dazed  him  as  to  lead  him  into  the  committal  of  follies  he 
had  not  paused  to  excuse  even  to  himself.  He  had  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  excuse  them.  Why  should  he 
not  take  the  legal  business  in  hand,  and  since  there  was 
no  reason  against  that,  why  should  he  not  also  interest 
himself  in  the  investigations  and  be  on  intimate  terms 
with  the  men  who  were  a  part  of  the  brilliant  project? 
Why  should  not  his  wife  entertain  them,  as  she  entei 
tained  the  rest  of  her  friends  and  acquaintances  ?  Tre- 
dennis  felt  that  he  had  learned  enough  of  the  man's 
mental  habits  to  follow  him  pretty  closely  in  his  reasoning 
—  when  he  reasoned.  While  he  had  looked  on  silently, 
the  colonel  had  learned  a  great  deal  and  grown  worldly- 
wise  and  quicker  of  perception  than  he  could  have 
believed  possible  in  times  gone  by.  He  was  only  half 
conscious  that  this  was  because  he  had  now  an  object  in 
view  which  he  had  not  had  before ;  that  he  was  alert 


316  THROUGH    ONB    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  watchful  because  there  was  some  one  he  wished  to 
shield  ;  that  he  was  no  longer  indifferent  to  the  world  and 
its  ways,  —  no  longer  given  to  underrating  its  strength 
and  weaknesses,  its  faults  and  follies,  because  he  wished 
to  be  able  to  defend  himself  against  them,  if  such  a  thing 
should  become  necessary.  He  had  gained  wisdom 
enough  to  appreciate  the  full  significance  of  the  low- 
voiced,  apparently  carelessly  uttered  words  ho  had  just 
heard ;  and  to  feel  his  own  almost  entire  helplessness  in 
the  matter.  To  appeal  to  Amory  would  be  useless ;  to 
go  to  the  professor  impossible ;  how  could  he  carry  to 
him  such  a  story,  unless  it  assumed  proportions  such  as 
to  make  the  step  a  last  terrible  resource?  He  had 
been  looking  older  and  acknowledging  himself  frailer 
during  the  last  year ;  certainly  he  was  neither  mentally 
nor  physically  in  the  condition  to  meet  :such  a  blow,  if 
it  was  possible  to  spare  it  to  him. 

Tredennis  looked  across  the  room  at  Bertha  again. 
It  seemed  that  there  was  only  one  very  simple  thing  he 
could  do  now. 

w  She  will  probably  be  angry  and  think  I  have  come 
to  interfere,  if  I  go  to  her,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  will  go 
nevertheless.  At  least,  I  am  not  one  of  them,  — every 
one  knows  that,  —  and  perhaps  it  will  occur  to  her  to 
go  home." 

There  was  resolution  on  his  face  when  he  approached 
her.  He  wore  the  look  which  never  failed  to  move  her 
more  strongly  than  any  other  thing  on  earth  had  ever 
done  before,  and  whose  power  over  her  cost  her  all  the 
resistance  of  which  she  was  capable.  It  had  some- 
times made  her  wonder  if,  after  all,  it  was  true  that 
women  liked  to  be  subdued  —  to  be  ruled  a  little  — 
if  their  rulers  were  gentle  as  well  as  strong.  She  had 
heard  it  said  so,  and  had  often  laughed  at  the  sentiment 
of  the  popular  fallacy.  She  used  to  smile  at  it  when  it 
presented  itself  to  her  even  in  this  manner ;  but  there 
had  been  occasions  —  times  perhaps  when  she  was  very 
tiref — when  she  had  known  that  she  would  have  been 


THROUGH   O.NU    ADMINISTRATION.  317 

glad  to  give  way  before  this  look,  to  obey  it,  to  feel 
the  relief  of  deciding  for  herself  no  more. 

Such  a  feeling  rose  within  her  now.  She  looked 
neither  tired  nor  worn ;  but  a  certain  deadly  sense  of 
fatigue,  which  was  becoming  a  physical  habit  with  her, 
had  been  growing  upon  her  all  the  evening.  The  color  on 
her  cheeks  was  feverish,  her  limbs  ached,  her  eyes  were 
bright  with  her  desperate  eagerness  to  sustain  herself. 
Once  or  twice,  when  she  had  laughed  or  spoken,  she 
had  been  conscious  of  such  an  unnatural  tone  in  her 
voice  that  her  heart  had  trembled  with  fear  lest  others 
should  have  heard  it  too.  It  seemed  impossible  to  her 
that  they  should  not,  and  that  these  men  who  listened 
and  applauded  her  should  not  see  that  often  she  scarcely 
heard  them,  and  that  she  dare  not  stop  for  fear  of  forget- 
ting them  altogether  and  breaking  down  in  some  dreadfu 
way,  which  would  show  that  all  her  spirit  and  gayety 
was  a  lie,  and  only  a  lie  poorly  acted,  after  all. 

She  thought  she  knew  what  Tredennis  had  come  to 
her  for.  She  had  not  lost  sight  of  him  at  any  time. 
She  had  known  where  he  stood  or  sat,  and  whom  he 
spcke  to,  and  had  known  that  he  had  seen  her  also. 
She  had  met  his  eyes  now  and  then,  and  smiled  and 
looked  away  again,  beginning  to  talk  to  her  admirers 
with  more  spirit  than  ever  each  time.  What  else  was 
there  to  do  but  go  on  as  she  had  begun  ?  She  knew 
only  too  well  what  reason  there  was  in  herself  that  she 
should  not  falter.  If  it  had  been  strong  yesterday,  it 
was  ten  times  stronger  to-day,  and  would  be  stronger 
to-morrow  and  for  many  a  bitter  day  to  come.  But 
when  he  came  to  her  she  only  smiled  up  at  him,  as  she 
would  have  smiled  at  Planefield,  or  the  gallant  and 
spacious  Barnacles,  or  any  other  of  the  men  she 
knew. 

"  I  hope  you  have  had  a  pleasant  evening,"  she  said. 
w  You  enjoy  things  of  this  sort  so  much,  however,  that 
you  are  always  safe.  I  saw  you  talking  in  the  most  vi- 
Facious  manner  to  that  pretty  Miss  Stapleton,  —  the  on  a 


318  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

with  the  eyelashes,  —  or  rather  you  were  listening  viva- 
ciously. You  are  such  a  good  listener." 

"That's  an  accomplishment,  isn't  it?"  said Planefield, 
with  his  easy  air. 

"  It  is  a  gift  of  the  gods,"  she  answered.  w  And  it 
was  bestowed  on  Colonel  Tredennis." 

w  There  are  talkers,  you  know,"  suggested  the  Sena- 
tor, "  who  would  make  a  good  listener  of  a  man  without 
the  assistance  of  the  gods." 

"Do  you  mean  the  Miss  Stapleton  with  the  eye- 
lashes?" inquired  Bertha,  blandly. 

"  Oh,  come  now,"  was  the  response.  "  I  think  you 
know  I  don't  mean  the  Miss  Stapleton  with  the  eye- 
lashes. If  I  did,  it  would  be  more  economical  to  make 
the  remark  to  her." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Bertha,  blandly  again.  "  You  mean  me  ? 
I  hoped  so.  Thank  you  very  much.  And  I  am  glad 
you  said  it  before  Colonel  Tredennis,  because  it  may  in- 
crease his  confidence  in  me,  which  is  not  great.  I  am 
always  glad  when  any  one  pays  me  a  compliment  in  his 
presence." 

"  Does  he  never  pay  you  compliments  himself  r " 
asked  Planefield. 

Bertha  gave  Tredennis  a  bright,  full  glance. 

"Did  you  ever  pay  me  a  compliment?"  she  said. 
w  Will  you  ever  pay  me  a  compliment  —  if  I  should 
chance  to  deserve  one?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  his  face  unsmiling,  his  voice 
inflexible.  "May  I  begin  now?  You  always  deserve 
them.  My  only  reason  for  failing  to  pay  them  is 
because  I  am  not  equal  to  inventing  such  as  would  be 
worthy  of  you.  Your  eyes  are  like  stars  —  your  diess 
is  the  prettiest  in  the  room  —  every  man  present  :s  your 
slave  and  every  woman  pales  before  you  —  the  President 
is  going  home  now  only  because  you  have  ceased  to 
smile  upon  him." 

The  color  on  Bertha's  cheek  faded  a  little,  but  he? 
smile  did  not.  She  checked  him  with  a  gesture. 


THKOUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  31 S 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  "that  will  do  I  You  are 
even  better  than  Senator  Planefield.  My  eyes  are  like 
stars — my  dress  is  perfection  !  I  myself  am  as  brilliant 
as — as  the  chandelier  I  Really,  there  seems  nothing 
left  for  me  to  do  but  to  follow  the  President,  who,  as 
you  said,  has  been  good  enough  to  take  his  leave  and 
give  us  permission  to  retire."  And  she  rose  from  her 
chair. 

She  made  her  adieus  to  Planefield,  who  bestowed 
upon  Tredennis  a  sidelong  scowl,  thinking  that  it  was 
he  who  was  taking  her  away.  It  consoled  him  but  little 
that  she  gave  him  her  hand  —  in  a  most  gracious  fare- 
well. He  had  been  enjoying  himself  as  he  did  not  often 
enjoy  himself,  and  the  sight  of  the  colonel's  unresponsive 
countenance  filled  him  with  silent  rage.  It  happened 
that  it  was  not  the  first  time,  or  even  the  second,  that 
this  gentleman  had  presented  himself  inopportunely. 

"  The  devil  take  his  grim  airs ! "  was  his  cordial 
mental  exclamation.  w  What  does  he  mean  by  them, 
and  what  is  he  always  turning  up  for  when  no  one  wants 
«x)  see  him?" 

Something  of  this  amiable  sentiment  was  in  his  ex- 
pression, but  the  colonel  did  not  seem  to  see  it ;  his 
countenance  was  as  unmoved  as  ever  when  he  led  his 
charge  away,  her  little  hand  resting  on  his  arm.  In 
truth,  he  was  thinking  of  other  things.  Suddenly  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  there  was  one  effort  he  could 
make :  that,  if  he  could  conquer  himself  and  his  own 
natural  feeling  of  reluctance,  he  might  speak  to  Bertha 
herself  in  such  words  as  she  would  be  willing  to  listen 
to  and  reflect  upon.  It  seemed  impossible  to  tell  her 
all,  but  surely  he  might  frame  such  an  appeal  as  would 
have  some  small  weight  with  her.  It  was  not  an  easy 
thing  to  do.  He  must  present  himself  to  her  in  the  role 
of  an  individual  who,  having  no  right  to  interfere  with 
her  actions,  still  took  upon  himself  to  do  so  ;  who  spoke 
whexi  it  would  have  seemed  better  taste  to  be  silent; 
who  delivered  homilies  with  4ie  manner  of  one  who 


320  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINIS1  RATION. 

thought  himself  faultless,  ^nd  so  privileged  to  preach 
and  advise. 

"But  what  of  that ?"  he  said,  checking  himself  im- 
patiently in  the  midst  of  these  thoughts.  "  I  am  always 
thinking  of  myself,  and  of  how  I  shall  appear  in  her 
eyes  I  Am  I  a  boy  lover  trying  to  please  her,  or  a  nnn 
who  would  spare  and  shield  her  ?  Let  her  think  poor  ly 
of  me  if  she  chooses,  if  she  will  only  listen  and  realize 
her  danger  when  her  anger  is  over." 

The  standard  for  his  own  conduct  which  he  had  set 
up  was  not  low,  it  will  be  observed.  All  that  he  de- 
manded of  himself  was  utter  freedom  from  all  human 
weakness,  and  even  liability  to  temptation ;  an  unselfish- 
ness without  blemish,  a  self-control  without  flaw ;  that 
he  should  bear  his  own  generous  anguish  without  the 
movement  of  a  muscle  ;  that  he  should  wholly  ignore  the 
throbbing  of  his  own  wounds,  remembering  only  the  task 
he  had  set  himself;  that  his  watchfulness  over  himself 
should  never  falter,  and  his  courage  never  be  shaken.  It 
was,  perhaps,  indicative  of  a  certain  degree  of  noble 
simplicity  that  he  demanded  this  of  himself,  which  he 
would  have  asked  of  no  other  human  creature,  and  that 
at  no  time  did  the  thought  cross  his  mind  that  the  thing 
he  demanded  was  impossible  of  attainment.  When  he 
failed,  as  he  knew  he  often  did ;  when  he  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  efface  himself  utterly  from  his  own  thoughts  and 
was  guilty  of  the  weakness  of  allowing  himself  to  become 
a  factor  in  them ;  when  his  unhappiness  was  stronger 
than  himself;  when  he  was  stirred  to  resentment,  or 
conscious  of  weariness,  and  the  longing  to  utter  some 
word  which  would  betray  him  and  ask  for  pity,  —  he 
never  failed  to  condemn  himself  in  bitterness  of  spirit  as 
ignoble  and  unworthy. 

"  Let  her  be  angry  with  me  if  she  chooses,"  he  thought 
now.  "  It  is  for  me  to  say  my  say,  and  leave  the  rest 
to  her  —  and  I  will  try  to  say  it  kindly." 

He  would  set  aside  the  bitter  feeling  and  resentment 
of  her  trifling  which  had  beset  him  more  than  once  dur- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  321 

lag  the  evening;  he  would  forget  them,  as  it  was  but 
right  and  just  that  they  should  be  forgotten.  When  he 
spoke,  as  they  went  up  the  staircase  together,  his  tone 
was  so  kind  that  Bertha  glanced  up  at  him,  and  saw  that 
his  face  had  changed,  and,  though  still  grave,  wa?  kind, 
too.  When  she  joined  him  after  leaving  the  cloak-room, 
he  spoke  to  her  of  her  wrap  again,  and  asked  her  to 
draw  it  more  closely  about  her ;  when  he  helped  her  into 
the  carriage,  there  was  that  in  his  light  touch  which 
brought  back  to  her  with  more  than  its  usual  strength 
the  familiar  sense  of  quiet  protection  and  support. 

"  It  would  be  easier,"  she  thought,  "  if  he  would  be 
angry.  Why  is  he  not  angry  ?  He  was  an  hour  ago  — 
and  surely  I  have  done  enough." 

But  he  showed  no  signs  of  disapproval,  —  he  was  de- 
termined that  he  would  not  do  that,  —  though  their  drive 
was  rather  a  silent  one  again.  And  yet,  by  the  time 
they  reached  home,  Bertha  was  in  some  indefinite  way 
prepared  for  the  question  he  put  to  her  as  he  assisted 
her  to  alight. 

"  May  I  come  in  for  a  little  while  ?  "  he  asked.  w  I  know 
it  is  late,  but  —  there  is  something  I  must  say  to  you." 

"  Something  you  must  say  to  me  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  I 
am  sure  it  must  be  something  interesting  and  something 
I  should  like  to  hear.  Come  in,  by  all  means." 

So  they  entered  the  house  together,  and  went  into 
the  parlor.  They  found  a  fire  burning  there,  and 
Bertha's  chair  drawn  up  before  it.  She  loosened  her 
wrap  rather  deliberately  and  threw  it  off,  and  then  sat 
down  as  deliberately,  arranging  her  footstool  and  dra- 
peries until  she  had  attained  the  desired  amount  of 
languid  comfort  in  her  position.  Tredennis  did  not 
speak  until  she  was  settled.  He  leaned  against  the 
mantel,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  fire. 

Being  fairly  arranged,  Bertha  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Will  you  give  me  that  feather  screen,  if  you  please  ?  " 
she  said, — "the  one  made  of  peacock  feathers.  Wheo 
one  attains  years  of  discretion,  o  le  has  some  care  for 


322  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

one's  complexion.  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you  bow  serious 
such  matters  are,  and  that  the  difference  between  being 
eighteen  and  eighty  is  almost  wholly  a  matter  of  com- 
plexion? If  one  could  remain  pink  arid  smooth,  one 
might  possibly  overcome  the  rest,  and  there  would  be 
no  such  thing  as  growing  old.  It  is  not  a  single  plank 
which  is  between  ourselves  and  eternity,  but  a  —  Would 
the  figure  of  speech  appear  appropriate  if  one  said  ra 
single  cuticle '?  I  am  afraid  not." 

He  took  the  screen  from  its  place  and  regarded  it  a 
little  absently. 

w  You  had  this  in  your  hand  the  first  night  I  came 
here,"  he  said,  "when  you  told  the  story  of  your  great 
lady." 

She  took  it  from  him. 

"  That  was  a  pretty  little  story,"  she  said.  w  It  was 
a  dear  little  story.  My  great  lady  was  present  to- 
night. We  passed  and  repassed  each  other,  and  gazed 
placidly  at  each  other's  eyebrows.  We  were  vaguely 
haunted  by  a  faint  fancy  that  we  might  have  met  before  ; 
but  the  faculties  become  dimmed  with  advancing  years, 
and  we  could  not  remember  where  or  how  it  happened. 
One  often  feels  that  one  has  met  people,  you  know." 

She  balanced  her  gleaming  screen  gracefully,  looking 
at  him  from  under  its  shadow. 

"  And  it  is  not  only  on  account  of  my  complexion  that 
I  want  nyy  peacock  feathers,"  she  continued,  dropping 
her  great  lady  by  the  way  as  if  she  had  not  picked  her 
up  in  the  interim.  w  I  want  them  to  conceal  my  emo- 
tions if  your  revelations  surprise  me.  Have  you  never 
seen  me  use  them  when  receiving  the  compliments  of 
Senator  Planefield  and  his  friends?  A  little  turn  to 
the  right  or  the  left  —  the  least  graceful  little  turn — and 
I  can  look  as  I  please,  and  they  will  see  nothing  and 
only  hear  my  voice,  which,  I  trust,  is  always  sufficiently 
under  control." 

She  wondered  if  it  was  sufficiently  under  control  now. 
She  was  not  sure,  and  because  she  was  not  sure  sht 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  323 

made  the  most  reckless  speeches  she  could  think  of. 
There  was  a  story  she  had  heard  of  a  diplomatist,  who 
once  so  entirely  bewildered  his  fellow-diplomats  that 
they  found  it  impossible  to  cope  with  him ;  they  were 
invariably  outwitted  by  him  :  the  greatest  subtlety,  the 
most  wondrous  coup  dl&tat,  he  baffled  alike ;  mystery 
surrounded  him ;  his  every  act  was  enshrouded  in  it ; 
with  such  diplomatic  methods  it  was  madness  to  combat. 
When  his  brilliant  and  marvellous  career  was  at  an  end 
his  secret  was  discovered;  on  every  occasion  he  had 
told  the  simple,  exact  truth.  As  she  leaned  back  in  her 
chair  and  played  with  her  screen  Bertha  thought  of  this 
story.  She  had  applied  it  to  herself  before  this.  The 
one  thing  which  would  be  incredible  to  him  at  this  mo- 
ment, the  one  thing  it  would  appear  more  than  in- 
credible that  she  should  tell  him,  would  be  the  truth  — 
if  he  realized  what  that  truth  was.  Any  other  story, 
however  wild,  might  have  its  air  or  suggestion  of  plausi- 
bility ;  but  that,  being  what  it  was,  she  should  have  the 
nerve,  the  daring,  the  iron  strength  of  self-control,  which 
it  would  require  to  make  a  fearless  jest  of  the  simple, 
terrible  truth,  it  would  seem  to  him  the  folly  of  a  mad- 
man to  believe,  she  knew.  To  look  him  in  the  eye  with 
a  smile,  and  tell  him  that  she  feared  his  glance  and 
dreaded  his  words,  would  place  the  statement  without 
the  pale  of  probability.  She  had  told  him  things  as 
true  before,  and  he  had  not  once  thought  of  believing 
them.  "  It  is  never  difficult  to  persuade  him  not  to  be- 
lieve me,"  she  thought.  There  was  no  one  of  her  many 
moods  of  which  she  felt  such  terror,  in  her  more  natural 
moments,  as  of  the  one  which  held  possession  of  her 
now ;  and  yet  there  was  none  she  felt  to  be  so  safe, 
which  roused  her  to  such  mental  exhilaration  while  its 
hour  lasted,  or  resulted  in  such  reaction  when  it  had 
passed.  "  I  am  never  afraid  then,"  she  said  to  Agnes 
once.  "  There  is  nothing  I  could  not  bear.  It  seems  as 
if  I  were  made  of  steel,  and  had  never  been  soft  or 
timid  in  my  life,  Everything  is  gone  but  my  power 


324  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

over  myself,  and  —  yes,  it  intoxicates  me.  Until  it  ii 
over  I  am  not  really  hurt,  I  think.  There  was  some- 
thing I  read  once  about  a  man  who  was  broken  on  the 
wheel,  and  while  it  was  being  done  he  laughed,  and 
shrieked,  and  sang.  I  think  all  women  are  like  that 
sometimes :  while  they  are  being  broken  they  laugh,  and 
shriek,  and  sing ;  but  afterward  —  afterward  "  — 

So  now  she  spoke  the  simple  truth. 

"I  shall  have  you  at  a  disadvantage,  you  may  ob- 
serve," she  said.  "  I  shall  see  your  face,  and  you  will 
not  see  mine  —  unless  I  wish  ycu  to  do  so.  A  little 
turn  of  my  wrist,  and  you  have  only  my  voice  to  rely 
upon.  Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  before  Richard 
comes  in?  If  so,  I  am  afraid  you  must  waste  no  time, 
as  his  train  is  due  at  twelve.  You  were  going  to 
say"  — 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  something  you  will  not  like  to  hear," 
he  answered,  "though  I  did  not  contradict  you  when 
you  suggested  that  it  was." 

"You  were  outside  then,"  she  replied,  "and  I  might 
not  have  let  you  come  in." 

"No,"  he  said,  "you  might  not." 

He  looked  at  the  feather  screen  which  she  had  in- 
clined a  trifle. 

"Your  screen  reminded  me  of  your  great  lady, 
Bertha,"  he  said,  "because  I  saw  her  to-night,  and  — 
and  heard  her  —  and  she  was  speaking  of  you." 

"  Of  me  !  "  she  replied.     "  That  was  kind  indeed." 

"No,"  he  returned,  "it  was  not.  She  was  neither 
generous  nor  lenient;  she  did  not  even  speak  the 
truth ;  and  yet,  as  I  heard  her,  I  was  obliged  to  con- 
fess that,  to  those  who  did  not  know  you  and  only  saw 
you  as  you  were  to-night,  what  she  said  might  not  ap- 
pear so  false." 

Bertha  turned  her  screen  aside  and  looked  at  him 
composedly. 

"She  was  speaking  of  Senator  Planefield,"  she  re- 
marked, *atd  Judge  Ballard,  and  Commander 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  325 

nacles.  She  reprehended  my  frivolity  and  deplored  the 
tendency  of  the  age." 

"She  was  speaking  of  Senator  Planefield,"  he  an- 
swered. 

She  moved  the  screen  a  little. 

r  Has  Senator  Planefield  been  neglecting  her?"  she 
said.  "  I  hope  not." 

''Lay  your  screen  aside,  Bertha,"  he  commanded, 
hotly.  *  You  don't  need  it.  What  I  have  to  say  will 
not  disturb  you,  as  I  feared  it  would  —  no,  I  should  say 
as  I  hoped  it  would.  It  is  only  this  :  that  these  people 
were  speaking  lightly  of  you  —  that  they  connected  youi 
name  with  Planefield's  as  —  as  no  honest  man  is  willing 
that  the  name  of  his  wife  should  be  connected  with  that 
of  another  man.  That  was  all ;  and  I,  who  am  always 
interfering  with  your  pleasures,  could  not  bear  it,  and 
so  have  made  the  blunder  of  interfering  again." 

There  were  many  things  she  had  borne,  of  which  she 
had  said  nothing  to  Agnes  Sylvestre  in  telling  her  story, 
—  things  she  had  forced  herself  to  ignore  or  pass  by ; 
but  just  now  some  sudden,  passionate  realization  of  them 
was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  answered  him  in  words 
she  felt  it  was  madness  to  utter  even  as  they  leaped  to 
her  lips. 

"  Richard  ha«  not  been  unwilling,"  she  said.  "  RicK- 
ard  has  not  resented  it !  " 

"  If  he  had  been  in  my  place,"  he  began,  feeling  ill  at 
ease  —  w  if  he  understood  " — 

She  dropped  her  screen  upon  her  lap  and  looked  at 
him  with  steady  eyes. 

"  No,"  she  interposed,  "  that  is  a  mistake.  He  would 
Dot  have  looked  upon  the  matter  as  you  do.  It  is  only 
a  trifle,  after  all.  You  are  overestimating  its  im- 
portance." 

v  Am  I  ?  "  he  said.     "  Do  you  regard  it  in  that  light  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  you  are  too  fastidious.  Is  the 
spiteful  comment  of  an  ill-natured,  unattractive  woman, 
upon  a  woman  who  chances  to  be  more  fortunate  than 


#26  fHROUGH    ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

herself,  of  such  weight  that  it  is  likely  to  influence 
people  greatly  ?  Women  are  always  saying  such  things 
of  one  another  when  they  are  angry.  I  cannot  say 
them  of  our  friend,  it  is  true,  because  —  because  she  is 
so  fortunate  as  to  be  placed  by  nature  beyond  reproach. 
Tf  I  had  her  .charms,  and  her  manner,  and  her  years,  I 
should,  perhaps,  be  beyond  reproach  too." 

She  wondered  if  he  would  deign  to  answer  her  at  all . 
Ft  seemed  as  if  the  execrable  bad  taste  of  her  words  must 
overwhelm  him.  If  he  had  turned  his  back  upon  her 
and  left  the  room,  she  would  have  felt  no  surprise.  To 
ha  ye  seen  him  do  so  would  have  been  almost  a  relief. 
But,  for  him,  he  merely  stood  perfectly  still  and 
watched  her. 

"Go  on,"  he  said,  at  length. 

She  faintly  smiled. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  say  more  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Is  not 
that  enough?  My  great  lady  was  angry,  and  was 
stupid  enough  to  proclaim  the  fact."  She  made  a  quick 
turn  toward  him.  "To  whom  was  she  speaking?  "  she 
demanded.  "  To  a  man  or  a  woman  ?  " 

"To  a  man,"  he  answered. 

She  sank  back  into  her  chair  and  smiled  again. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  "then  it  is  of  less  consequence  even 
than  I  imagined.  It  is  pleasant  to  reflect  that  it  was  a 
man.  One  is  not  afraid  of  men." 

She  lifted  the  screen  from  her  lap,  and  for  a  moment 
le  could  not  see  her  face. 

"  Now  he  will  go,"  she  was  saying  to  herself  breath- 
essly  behind  it.  "  Now  he  must  go.  He  will  go  now 
—  and  he  will  not  come  back." 

But  he  did  not  go.  It  was  the  irony  of  fate  that  he 
should  spare  her  nothing.  In  the  few  moments  of 
silence  which  followed  he  had  a  great  struggle  with  him* 
self.  It  was  such  a  struggle  that,  when  it  was  at  ah 
end,  he  was  pale  and  looked  subdued.  There  was  a 
chair  near  her.  He  went  to  it  and  sat  down  at  her  side, 

"  Bertha,"  he  said,  "  there  has  been  one  thing  in  thf 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  327 

midst  of  all  —  all  this,  to  which  you  have  been  true. 
You  have  loved  your  children  when  it  has  seemed  that 
nothing  else  would  touch  you.  I  say  'seemed,'  be- 
cause I  swear  to  you  I  am  unmoved  in  my  disbelief  in 
what  you  persist  in  holding  before  me  —  for  what  reason 
you  know  best.  You  love  your  children  ;  you  don't  lie 
to  me  about  that  —  you  don't  lie  to  yourself  about  it. 
Perhaps  it  is  only  nature,  as  you  said  once,  and  not 
tenderness ;  I  don't  know.  I  don't  understand  you ; 
but  give  yourself  a  few  moments  to  think  of  them  now." 

He  saw  the  hand  holding  the  screen  tremble ;  he  could 
not  see  her  face. 

"  What  —  must  I  think  of  them  ?  " 

He  looked  down  at  the  floor,  knitting  his  brows  and 
dragging  at  his  great  mustache. 

"I  overestimate  the  importance  of  things,"  he  said. 
"  I  don't  seem  to  know  much  about  the  standards  society 
sets  up  for  itself ;  but  it  does  not  seem  a  trifle  to  me  that 
their  mother  should  be  spoken  of  lightly.  There  was  a 
girl  I  knew  once  —  long  ago" —  He  stopped  and 
looked  up  at  her  with  sudden,  sad  candor.  "  It  is  you 
I  am  thinking  of,  Bertha,"  he  said  ;  "you,  as  I  remember 
you  first  when  you  came  home  from  school.  I  was 
thinking  of  your  mother  and  your  dependence  upon  her, 
and  the  tenderness  there  was  between  you." 

"And  you  were  thinking,"  she  added,  "that  Janey's 
mother  would  not  be  so  good  and  worthy  of  trust. 
That  is  true." 

"  I  have  no  answer  to  make  to  that,  Bertha,"  he  said. 
"None." 

She  laid  the  screen  upon  her  lap  once  more. 

"  But  it  is  true,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  true.  Why  do  you 
refuse  to  believe  it  ?  Are  you  so  good  that  you  cannot  ? 
Yes,  you  are  !  As  for  me  —  what  did  I  tell  you  ?  I  am 
neither  good  nor  bad,  and  I  want  excitement.  Nine 
people  out  of  ten  are  so,  and  I  am  no  worse  than  the 
rest  of  the  nine.  One  must  be  amused.  If  I  were  re- 
ligious, I  should  have  Dorcas  societies  and  missions. 


328  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

As  I  am  not,  I  have"  —  she  paused  one  second,  no 
more  —  "I  have  Senator  Planefield." 

She  could  bear  the  inaction  of  sitting  still  no  longer. 
She  got  up. 

"  You  have  an  ideal  for  everything,"  she  said,  "  for 
men,  women,  and  children,  —  especially  for  women,  1 
think.  You  are  always  telling  yourself  that  they  are 
good,  and  pure,  and  loving,  and  faithful ;  that  they  adore 
their  children,  and  are  true  to  their  friends.  It  is  very 
pretty,  but  it  is  not  always  the  fact.  You  try  to  believe 
it  is  true  of  me ;  but  it  is  not.  I  am  not  your  ideal 
woman.  I  have  told  you  so.  Have  you  not  found  out 
yet  that  Bertha  Amory  is  not  what  you  were  so  sure 
Bertha  Herrick  would  be?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered.  "You — you  have  convinced 
me  of  that." 

"It  was  inevitable,"  she  continued.  "I  was  very 
young  then.  I  knew  nothing  of  the  world  or  of  its 
distractions  and  temptations.  A  thousand  things  have 
happened  to  change  me.  And,  after  all,  what  right  had 
you  to  expect  so  much  of  me  ?  I  was  neither  one  thing 
nor  the  other,  even  then  ;  I  was  only  ignorant.  You 
could  not  expect  me  to  be  ignorant  always." 

"  Bertha,"  he  demanded,  "  what  are  you  trying  to 
prove  to  me?" 

"  Only  a  little  thing,"  she  answered  ;  "that  I  need  my 
amusements,  and  cannot  live  without  them." 

He  rose  from  his  seat  also. 

"  That  you  cannot  live  without  Senator  Planefield  ?  " 
he  said. 

"Go  and  tell  him  so,"  was  her  reply.  "It  would 
please  him,  and  perhaps  this  evening  he  would  be  in- 
clined  to  place  some  confidence  in  the  statement." 

She  turned  and  walked  to  the  end  of  the  room ;  then 
she  came  back  and  stood  quite  still  before  him. 

"lam  going  to  tell  you  something  I  wrould  rather 
keep  to  myself,"  she  said.  "It  may  save  us  both 
trouble  if  I  don't  spare  myself  as  my  vanity  prompt* 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  329 

me  to  do.  I  said  I  was  no  worse  than  the  other  nine ; 
but  I  am  —  a  little.  I  am  not  very  fond  of  anything  or 
any  one.  Not  so  fond  even  of  —  Richard  and  the  chil- 
dren, as  I  seem.  I  know  that,  though  they  do  not.  Jf 
they  were  not  attractive  and  amiable,  or  if  they  inter- 
fered with  my  pleasures,  my  affection  would  not  stand 
many  shocks.  In  a  certain  way  I  am  emotional  enough 
always  to  appear  better  than  I  am.  Things  touch  me 
for  a  moment.  I  was  touched  a  little  just  now  when 
you  spoke  of  remembering  my  being  a  girl.  I  was  moved 
when  Janey  was  ill  and  you  were  so  good  to  me.  I 
almost  persuaded  myself  that  I  was  good  too,  and 
faithful  and  affectionate,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  I  knew 
it  was  only  a  fancy,  and  I  should  get  over  it.  It  is  easy 
for  me  to  laugh  and  cry  when  I  choose.  There  are  tears 
in  my  eyes  now,  but  —  they  don't  deceive  me." 

"  They  look  like  real  tears,  Bertha,"  he  said.  "  They 
would  have  deceived  me  —  if  you  had  not  given  me 
warning." 

"  They  always  look  real,"  she  answered.  "  And  is  not 
there  a  sort  of  merit  in  my  not  allowing  you  to  believe 
in  them  ?  Call  it  a  merit,  won't  you  ?  " 

His  face  became  like  a  mask.  For  several  seconds 
he  did  not  speak.  The  habit  he  had  of  taking  refuge 
in  utter  silence  was  the  strongest  weapon  he  could  use 
against  her.  He  did  not  know  its  strength ;  he  only 
knew  that  it  was  the  signal  of  his  own  desperate  help- 
lessness ;  but  it  left  her  without  defence  or  re- 
source. 

"Won't  you?"  she  said,  feeling  that  she  must  say 
something. 

He  hesitated  before  replying. 

"No,"  he  answered,  stonily,  after  the  pause.  "I  won't 
call  it  a  merit.  I  wish  you  would  leave  me  —  some- 
thing." 

That  was  very  hard. 

"  It  is  true,"  she  returned,  "  that  I  do  not  —  loave  you 
?ery  much." 


330  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

The  words  cost  her  such  an  effort  that  there  wer* 
breaks  between  them. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  not  much." 

There  was  something  almost  dogged  in  his  manner. 
He  could  not  bear  a  great  deal  more,  and  his  conscious- 
ness of  this  truth  forced  him  to  brace  himself  to  outward 
hardness. 

*  I  don't  ask  very  much,"  he  said      "  I  only  ask  you 
to  spare  yourself  and  your  children.     I  only  ask  you  to 
keep  out  of  danger.     It  is  yourself  I  ask  you  to  think 
of,  not  me.     Treat  me  as  you  like,  but  don't  —  don't  be 
cruel  to  yourself.     I  am  afraid  it  does  not  do  for  a 
woman  —  even  a  woman  as  cool  as  you  are  —  to  trifle 
with  herself  and  her  name.     I  have  heard  it  said  so,  and 
I  could  not  remain  silent  after  hearing  what  I  did  to- 
night." 

He  turned  as  if  to  move  away. 

"  You  are  going  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  It  is  very  late,  and  it  would  be 
useless  to  say  any  more." 

w  You  have  not  shaken  bands  with  me,"  she  said  when 
he  was  half  way  to  the  door.  The  words  forced  them- 
selves from  her.  Her  power  of  endurance  failed  her  at 
the  last  moment,  as  it  had  done  before  and  would  dc 
again. 

He  came  back  to  her. 

"  You  will  never  hold  out  your  hand  to  me  when  I 
shall  not  be  ready  to  take  it,  Bertha,"  he  said.  w  You 
know  that." 

She  did  not  speak. 

"You  are  chilled,"  he  said.  "Your  hand  is  quite 
cold." 

*  Yes,"  she  replied.     "  I  shall  lie  down  on  the  sofa  by 
the  flre  a  little  while  before  going  upstairs." 

Without  saying  anything  he  left  her,  drew  the  sofa 
nearer  to  the  hearth  and  arranged  the  cushions. 

"  I  would  advise  you  not  tc  fall  asleep,"  he  paid  when 
this  was  done. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  331 

"1  shall  not  fall  asleep,"  she  answered.  She  went  to 
the  sofa  and  sat  down  on  it. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said. 

And  he  answered  her  "Good-night,"  and  went  out  of 
the  room. 

She  sat  still  a  few  seconds  after  he  was  gone,  and  then 
lay  down.  Her  eyes  wandered  over  the  room.  She 
saw  the  ornaments,  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  the  design 
of  the  rug,  every  minute  object,  with  a  clearness  which 
seemed  to  magnify  its  importance  and  significance. 
There  was  a  little  Cloisson<§  jar  whose  pattern  she  never 
seemed  to  have  seen  before  ;  she  was  looking  at  it  when 
at  last  she  spoke. 

"It  is  very  hard  to  live,"  she  said.  "I  wish  it  was 
not  —  so  hard.  I  wish  there  was  some  way  of  helping 
one's  self,  but  there  is  not.  One  can  only  go  on — and 
on — and  there  is  always  something  worse  coming." 

She  put  her  hand  upon  her  breast.  Something  rose 
beneath  it  which  gave  her  suffocating  pain.  She  stag- 
gered to  her  feet,  pressing  one  hand  on  the  other  to 
crush  this  pain  down.  No  woman  who  has  suffered 
such  a  moment  but  has  done  the  same  thing,  and  done 
it  in  vain.  She  fell,  half-kneeling,  half-sitting,  upon 
the  rug,  her  body  against  her  chair,  her  arms  flung 
out. 

"Why  do  you  struggle  with  me?"  she  cried,  between 
her  sobs.  "Why  do  you  look  at  me  so?  You --hurt 
me  !  I  love  you  !  Oh  !  let  me  go — let  me  go  !  Don't 
you  know  —  I  can't  bear  it ! " 

In  the  street  she  heard  the  carriages  rolling  homeward 
from  some  gay  gathering.  One  of  them  stopped  a  few 
doors  away,  and  the  people  got  out  of  it  laughing  and 
talking. 

"  Don't  laugh  ! "  she  said,  shuddering.  "  No  one  — 
should  laugh  !  I  laugh  !  O  God  !  O  God  ! " 

In  half  an  hour  Richard  came  in.  He  had  taken  Miss 
Varien  home,  and  remained  to  lalk  with  her  a  short 


332  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

time  As  he  entered  the  house  Bertha  was  going  up 
the  staircase,  her  gleaming  dress  trailing  behind  her, 
her  feather-trimmed  wrap  over  her  arm.  She  turned 
and  smiled  down  at  him. 

"  Your  charms  will  desert  you  if  you  keep  such  hours 
as  these,"  she  said.  "How  did  you  enjoy  yourself,  or, 
rather,  how  did  you  enjoy  Miss  Varien,  and  how  many 
dazzling  remarks  did  she  make  ?  " 

"  More  than  I  could  count,"  he  said,  laughing.  "Wait 
a  moment  for  me  —  I  am  coming  up."  And  he  ran  up 
the  steps  lightly  and  joined  her,  slipping  his  arm  about 
her  waist. 

"  You  look  tired,"  he  said,  "  but  your  charms  never 
desert  you.  Was  that  the  shudder  of  guilt?  Whose 
peace  of  mind  have  you  been  destroying  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Tredennis',"  she  answered. 

"  Then  it  was  not  the  shud:ler  of  guilt,"  he  returned, 
laughing  again.  And,  as  she  leaned  gently  against  him, 
he  bent  and  kissed  tar. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  333 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

I  r  was  generally  conceded  that  nothing  could  be  more 
agieeable  than  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  position  and  surround- 
ings. Those  of  her  acquaintance  who  had  known  her 
before  her  marriage,  seeking  her  out,  pronounced  her 
more  full  of  charm  than  ever ;  those  who  saw  her  for  the 
first  time  could  scarcely  express  with  too  much  warmth 
their  pleasure  in  her  grace,  gentleness,  and  beauty. 
Her  house  was  only  less  admired  than  herself,  and  Mrs. 
Merriam,  promptly  gathering  a  coterie  of  old  friends 
about  her,  established  herself  most  enviably  at  once. 
It  became  known  to  the  world,  through  the  medium  of 
the  social  colums  of  the  dailies,  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre  was  at 
home  on  Tuesday  afternoons1,  and  that  she  also  received 
her  friends  each  Wednesday  evening.  On  these  oc- 
casions her  parlors  were  always  well  filled,  and  with 
society  so  agreeable  that  it  was  not  long  before  they 
were  counted  among  the  most  attractive  social  features 
of  the  week.  Professor  Herrick  himself  appeared  on 
several  Wednesdays,  and  it  was  gradually  remarked  that 
Colonel  Tredennis  presented  himself  upon  the  scene 
more  frequently  than  their  own  previous  knowledge  of 
his  habits  would  have  led  the  observers  to  expect.  On 
seeing  Mrs.  Sylvestre  in  the  midst  of  her  guests  and 
admirers,  Miss  Jessup  was  reminded  of  Madame  Re- 
camier  and  the  salons  of  Paris,  and  wrote  almost  an  en- 
tire letter  on  the  subject,  which  was  printed  by  the 
"Wabash  Times,"  under  the  heading  of  "A  Recent 
R6camier,"  and  described  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  violet  eyes, 
soft  voice,  and  willowy  fgure,  with  nothing  short  of 
enthusiasm. 

Under  these  honors  Mrs.  Sylvestre  bore  herself  very 
calmly.     If  she  had  a  fault,  an  impetuous  acquaintance 


334  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

once  remarked,  it  was  that  she  was  too  calm.  She 
found  her  life  even  more  interesting  than  she  had  hoped 
it  would  be ;  there  was  pleasure  In  the  renewal  of  old 
friendships  and  habits  and  the  formation  of  new  ones, 
and  in  time  it  became  less  difficult  to  hold  regrets  ancl 
memories  in  check  with  a  steady  hand.  She  neither 
gave  herself  to  retrospection  nor  to  feverish  gayety  ;  sho 
felt  she  had  outlived  her  need  of  the  latter  and  her  in- 
clination for  the  former.  Without  filling  her  life  with 
excitement,  she  enjoyed  the  recreations  of  each  day  as 
they  came,  and  felt  no  resulting  fatigue.  When  Pro- 
fessor Herrick  came  to  spend  an  evening  hour  with  her 
and  sat  by  the  fire  gently  admiring  her  as  he  was  led  on  to 
talk,  and  also  gently  admiring  Mrs.  Merriam,  who  was 
in  a  bright,  shrewd  humor,  she  herself  was  filled  with 
pleasure  in  them  both.  She  liked  their  ripeness  of 
thought  and  their  impartial  judgment  of  the  life  whose 
prejudices  they  had  outlived.  And  as  genuinely  as  she 
liked  this  she  enjoyed  Colonel  Tredennis,  who  now  and 
then  came  too.  In  the  first  place  he  came  because  he 
was  asked,  but  afterwards  because,  at  the  end  of  his 
first  visit,  he  left  the  house  with  a  sense  of  being  in 
some  vague  way  the  better  for  it.  Agnes'  manner  to- 
ward him  had  been  very  kind.  She  had  shown  an 
interest  in  himself  and  his  pursuits,  which  had  somehow 
beguiled  him  out  of  his  usual  reticence  and  brought  the 
best  of  his  gifts  to  the  surface,  though  nothing  could 
have  been  more  unstrained  and  quiet  than  the  tone  of 
their  conversation.  He  was  at  no  disadvantage  when 
they  talked  together ;  he  could  keep  pace  with  her  and 
understand  her  gentle  thoughts ;  she  did  not  bewilder 
him  or  place  him  on  the  defensive.  Once,  as  he  looked 
at  her  sweet,  reposeful  face,  he  remembered  what  Bertha 
had  said  of  his  ideal  woman  and  the  thought  rose  in  his 
mind  that  this  was  she  —  fair,  feminine,  full  of  all  tender 
sympathy  and  kindly  thought ;  not  ignorant  of  the  world 
nor  bitter  against  it,  only  bearing  no  stain  of  it  upon  her. 
women  should  be  so,"  he  thought,  sadly.  And 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  333 

_  ies  saw  the  shadow  fall  upen  his  face,  and  wondered 
what  he  was  thinking  of. 

She  began  to  speak  to  him  of  Bertha  soon  afterward, 
and,  perhaps,  if  the  whole  truth  were  told,  it  was  while 
she  so  spoke  that  he  felt  her  grace  and  sweetness  most 
novingly.  The  figure  her  words  brought  before  him 
was  the  innocent  one  he  loved,  the  one  he  only  saw  in 
memory  and  dreams,  and  whose  eyes  followed  him  with 
an  appeal  which  was  sad  truth  itself.  At  first  Agnes 
spoke  of  the  time  when  they  had  been  girls  together, 
making  their  entree  into  society,  with  others  afc  young 
and  untried  as  themselves  —  Bertha  the  happiest  and 
brightest  of  them  all. 

"  She  was  always  a  success,"  she  said.  "  She  had  that 
quality.  One  don't  know  how  to  analyze  it.  People 
remembered  her  and  were  attracted,  and  she  never  made 
them  angry  or  envious.  Men  who  had  been  in  love  with 
her  remained  her  friends.  It  was  because  she  was  so 
true  to  them.  She  was  always  a  true  friend." 

She  remembered  so  many  incidents  of  those  early 
days,  and  in  her  relation  of  them  Bertha  appeared  agait 
and  again  the  same  graceful,  touching  young  presence, 
always  generous  and  impetuous,  ready  of  wit,  bright  of 
spirit,  and  tender  of  heart. 

"  We  all  loved  her,"  said  Agnes.  "  She  was  wortl 
loving;  and  she  is  not  changed." 

"Not  changed,"  said  Tredennis,  involuntarily. 

"  Did  you  think  her  so  ?  "  she  asked,  gently. 

"Sometimes,"  he  answered,  looking  down.  "lam 
not  sure  that  I  know  her  very  well." 

But  he  knew  that  he  took  comfort  with  him  when  he 
went  away,  and  that  he  was  full  of  heartfelt  gratitude 
to  the  woman  who  had  defended  him  against  himself. 
When  he  sat  among  his  books  that  night  his  mind  waa 
calmer  than  it  had  been  for  many  a  day,  and  he  felt  his 
loneliness  less ;  What  wonder  that  he  went  to  the  nouse 
again  and  again,  and  often er  to  spend  a  quiet  hour  than 
when  others  were  there  !  When  his  burdens  weighed 


336  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

most  heavily  upon  him,  and  his  skies  looked  darkest , 
Agnes  Sylvestre  rarely  failed  to  give  him  help.  Wheu 
he  noted  her  thoughtful noss  for  others,  he  did  not  know 
what  method  there  was  in  her  thoughtfulness  for  himself, 
and  with  what  skilful  tact  and  delicate  care  she  chose 
the  words  in  which  she  spoke  to  him  of  Bertha ;  he  only 
felt  that,  after  she  had  talked  to  him,  the  shadow  which 
was  his  companion  was  less  a  shadow,  and  more  a  fair 
truth  to  be  believed  in  and  to  draw  faith  and  courage 
from. 

The  professor,  who  met  him  once  or  twice  during  his 
informal  calls,  spoke  of  the  fact  to  Arbuthnot  with  evi- 
dent pleasure. 

"  He  was  at  his  best,"  he  said,  "  and  I  have  noticed 
that  it  is  always  so  when  he  is  there.  The  truth  is,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  resist  the  influence  of  that  beau- 
tiful young  woman." 

His  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Arbuthnot  had  taken  upon 
itself  something  of  the  character  of  an  intimacy.  They 
saw  each  other  almost  daily.  The  professor  had  indeed 
made  many  discoveries  concerning  the  younger  man, 
but  none  which  caused  him  to  like  him  less.  He  had 
got  over  his  first  inclination  towards  surprise  at  finding 
they  had  many  things  in  common,  having  early  com- 
posed himself  to  meet  with  calmness  any  source  of 
momentary  wonder  which  might  present  itself,  decid- 
ing, at  length,  that  he,  himself,  was  either  younger  or 
his  new  acquaintance  older  than  he  had  imagined,  with- 
out making  the  matter  an  affair  of  years.  The  two  fell 
into  a  comfortable  habit  of  discussing  the  problems  of 
the  day,  and,  though  their  methods  were  entirely  differ- 
ent, and  Arbuthnot  was,  at  the  outset,  much  given  to  a 
light  treatment  of  argument,  they  always  understood 
each  other  in  the  end,  and  were  drawn  a  trifle  nearer  by 
the  debate.  It  was  actually  discovered  that  Laurence 
had  gone  «o  far  as  to  initiate  the  unwary  professor  into 
the  evil  practice  of  smoking,  having  gradually  seduced 
him  by  the  insidious  temptings  of  the  most  delicate 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  337 

cigars.  The  discussions,  it  was  observed,  were  alwaya 
more  enjoyable  when,  the  professor,  having  his  easj-- 
chair  placed  in  exactly  the  right  position  with  regard  tx.» 
light  and  fire,  found  himself,  with  his  cigar  in  hand, 
carefully  smoking  it,  and  making  the  most  of  its  ai.ma 
His  tranquil  enjoyment  of  and  respect  for  the  rite  wert 
agreeable  things  to  see. 

"  It  soothes  me,"  he  would  say  to  Arbuthnot.  "It 
even  inspires  and  elevates  me.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  dis- 
covered a  new  sense.  I  am  really  quite  grateful." 

It  was  Arbuthnot  who  generally  arranged  his  easy- 
chair,  showing  a  remarkable  instinct  in  the  matter  of 
knowing  exactly  what  was  necessary  to  comfort.  Among 
his  discoveries  concerning  him  the  professor  counted 
this  one,  that  he  had  in  such  things  the  silent  quickness 
of  perception  and  deft-handedness  of  a  woman,  and 
perhaps  it  had  at  first  surprised  him  more  than  all 
else. 

It  may  have  been  for  some  private  reason  of  his  own 
that  the  professor  occasionally  gave  to  the  conversation 
a  lighter  tone,  even  giving  a  friendly  and  discursive  at- 
tention to  social  topics,  and  showing  an  interest  in  the 
doings  of  pleasure-lovers  and  the  butterfly  of  fashion. 
At  such  times  Arbuthnot  noticed  that,  beginning  with  a 
reception  at  the  British  Embassy,  they  not  unfrequently 
ended  with  Bertha ;  or,  opening  with  the  last  dinner  at 
the  White  House,  closed  with  Richard  and  the  weekly 
"  evenings  "  adorned  by  the  presence  of  Senator  Plane- 
field  and  his  colleague.  So  it  was  perfectly  natural  that 
they  should  not  neglect  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  to  whom  the 
professor  had  taken  a  great  fancy,  and  whose  progress 
he  watched  with  much  interest.  He  frequently  spoke 
of  her  to  Arbuthnot,  dwelling  upon  the  charm  which 
made  her  what  she  was,  and  analyzing  it  and  its  influence 
upon  others.  It  appeared  to  have  specially  impressed 
itself  upon  him  on  the  occasion  of  his  seeing  Tredennis, 
and  having  said  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  resist 
this  "  beautiful  young  woman,  "  —  as  he  had  fallen  into 


338  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

the  unconscious  habit  of  calling  her,  —  he  went  on  to 
discourse  further. 

"  She  is  too  tranquil  to  make  any  apparent  effort,"  he 
Baid.  "  And  yet  the  coldest  and  most  reserved  person 
must  be  warmed  and  moved  by  her.  You  have  seen 
that,  though  you  are  neither  the  most  reserved  nor  the 
coldest." 

Arbuthnot  was  smoking  the  most  perfectly  flavored 
of  cigars,  and  giving  a  good  deal  of  delicate  attention  to 
it.  At  this  he  took  it  from  his  mouth,  looked  at  the 
end,  and  removed  the  ash  with  a  touch  of  his  finger,  in 
doing  which  he  naturally  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  cigar, 
and  not  upon  the  professor. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  have  recognized  it,  of  course." 

"You  see  her  rather  often,  I  think?  "said  the  pro- 
fessor. 

w  I  am  happy  to  be  permitted  that  privilege,"  was  the 
answer ;  "  though  I  am  aware  I  am  indebted  for  it  fai 
more  to  Mrs.  Amory  than  to  my  own  fascinations, 
numberless  and  powerful  though  they  may  be." 

"It  is  a  privilege,"  said  the  professor;  "but  it  is  more 
of  one  to  Philip  than  to  you  —  even  more  of  one  than 
he  knows.  He  needs  what  such  a  woman  might  give 
him." 

"Does  he?"  said  Arbuthnot.  "Might  I  ask  what 
that  is?" 

And  he  was  angry  with  himself  because  he  did  not 
say  il  with  more  ease  and  less  of  a  sense  of  unreasonable 
irritation.  The  professor  seemed  to  forget  his  cigar,  he 
held  it  in  the  hand  which  rested  on  his  chair-arm,  and 
neglected  it  while  he  gave  himself  up  to  thought. 

"  He  has  changed  very  much  during  the  past  year," 
he  said.  "In  the  few  last  months  I  have  noticed  it 
specially.  I  miss  something  from  his  manner,  and  he 
looks  fagged  and  worn.  It  has  struck  me  that  he  rather 
needs  an  interest,  and  feels  his  loneliness  without  being 
conscious  that  he  does  so.  After  all,  it  is  only  natural. 
A  man  who  leads  an  isolated  life  ine^  itably  reaches  a 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  339 

period  when  his  isolation  wearies  him,  and  he  brooda 
over  it  a  little." 

"And  you  think,"  said  Arbuthnot,  "that  Mrs.  Syl- 
vestre  might  supply  the  interest?" 

"  Don't  you  think  so  yourself? "  suggested  the  pro- 
fessor, mildly. 

"  Oh,"  said  Laurence,  "  /  think  the  man  would  be 
hard  to  please  who  did  not  find  she  could  supply  him 
with  anything  and  everything." 

And  he  laughed  and  made  a  few  rings  of  smoke,  watch- 
ing them  float  upward  toward  the  ceiling. 

"  He  would  have  a  great  deal  to  bring  her,"  said  the 
professor,  speaking  for  the  moment  rather  as  if  to  him- 
self than  to  any  audience.  "  And  she  would  have  a 
great  deal  in  return  for  what  she  could  bestow.  He  has 
always  been  what  he  is  to-day,  and  only  such  a  man  is 
worthy  of  her.  No  man  who  has  trifled  with  himself 
and  his  past  could  offer  what  is  due  to  her." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Laurence. 

He  made  more  rings  of  smoke  and  blew  them  away. 

"  As  for  Tredennis,"  he  said,  with  a  deliberateness  he 
felt  necessary  to  his  outward  composure,  "his  advantage 
is  that  he  does  not  exactly  belong  to  the  nineteenth 
century.  He  has  no  place  in  parlors ;  when  he  enters 
one,  without  the  least  pretension  or  consciousness  of  him- 
self, he  towers  over  the  rest  of  us  with  a  gigantic  mod- 
esty it  is  useless  to  endeavor  to  bear  up  against.  He 
ought  to  wear  a  red  cross,  and  carry  a  battle-axe,  and  go 
on  a  crusade,  or  right  the  wrongs  of  the  weak  by  un- 
horsing the  oppressor  in  single  combat.  He  might 
found  a  Round  Table.  His  crush  hat  should  be  a 
helmet,  and  he  should  appear  in  armor." 

The  professor  smiled. 

"That  is  a  very  nice  figure,"  he  said,  "though  you 
don't  treat  it  respectfully.  It  pleases  my  fancy." 

Arbuthnot  laughed  again,  not  the  gayest  laugh 
possible. 

"It  is  he  Tflho  is  a  nice  figure,"  he  returned.     "  And, 


#40  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

though  he  little  suspects  it,  he  is  the  one  most  admixed 
of  women.  He  could  win  anything  he  wanted  and  would 
deserve  all  he  won.  Oh,  I'm  respectful  enough.  I'm 
obliged  to  be.  There's  the  rub  !  " 

"  Is  it  a  rub  ?  "  asked  the  professor,  a  little  disturbed 
by  an  illogical  fancy  which  at  the  moment  presented 
itself  without  a  shadow  of  warning. 

"  You  don't  want  the  kind  of  thing  he  might  care  for." 

This  time  Laurence's  laugh  had  recovered  its  usual 
delightful  tone.  He  got  up  and  went  to  the  mantel  for 
a  match  to  light  a  new  cigar. 

"I!"  he  said.  "I  want  nothing  but  the  assurance 
that  I  shall  be  permitted  to  retain  my  position  in  the 
Treasury  until  I  don't  need  it.  It  is  a  modest  ambition, 
isn't  it  ?  And  yet  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  thwarted.  And 
then  —  in  the  next  administration,  perhaps — I  shall  be 
seedy  and  out  at  elbows,  and  Mrs.  Amory  won't  like  to 
invite  me  to  her  Thursday  evenings,  because  she  will 
know  it  will  make  me  uncomfortable,  and  then  —  then 
I  shall  disappear." 

"  Something  has  disturbed  you,"  commented  the  pro- 
fessor, rather  seriously.  "You  are  talking  nonsense." 

And  as  he  said  it  the  thought  occurred  to  him  that 
he  had  heard  more  of  that  kind  of  nonsense  than  usual 
of  late,  and  that  the  fact  was  likely  to  be  of  some  sig- 
nificance. "It  is  the  old  story,"  he  thought,  "and  it  is 
beginning  to  wear  upon  him  until  he  does  not  control 
himself  quite  so  completely  as  he  did  at  first.  That  is 
natural  too.  Perhaps  Bertha  herself  has  been  a  little 
cruel  to  him,  in  her  woman's  way.  She  has  not  been 
bearing  it  so  well  either." 

"  My  dear  professor,"  said  Laurence,  "  everything  ib 
relative,  and  what  you  call  nonsense  I  regard  as  my 
most  successful  conversational  efforts.  /  could  not 
wield  Excalibur.  Don't  expect  it  of  me,  I  beg  you.'' 

If  he  had  made  an  effort  to  evade  any  further  discus- 
sion of  Mr*'-.  Sj  Ivestre  and  the  possibilities  of  her  future, 
he  had  not  failed  in  it.  They  talked  of  her  no  more , 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  341 

in  fact,  they  talked  very  little  at  all.  A  shade  had  fallen 
apon  the  professor's  face  and  did  not  pass  away.  He 
lighted  his  cigar  again,  but  scarcely  seemed  to  enjoy 
finishing  it.  If  Arbuthnot  had  been  in  as  alert  a  mental 
condition  as  usual,  his  attention  would  have  been  attracted 
by  the  anxious  thoughtfulness  of  his  old  friend's  manner ; 
but  he  himself  was  preoccupied  and  rather  glad  of  t!:c 
opportunity  to  be  silent.  When  the  cigars  were  finish c\1, 
and  he  was  on  the  point  of  taking  his  departure,  the  pro- 
fessor seemed  to  rouse  himself  as  if  from  a  reverie. 

"  That  modest  ambition  of  yours" —  he  began  slowly. 

"  Thank  you  for  thinking  of  it,"  said  Arbuthnot,  as 
he  paused. 

"  It  interests  me,"  replied  the  professor.  w  You  are 
continually  finding  something  to  interest  me.  There  is 
no  reason  why  it  should  be  thwarted,  you  know." 

"I  wish  I  did,"  returned  Laurence.  "But  I  don't, 
you  see.  They  are  shaky  pieces  of  architecture,  those 
government  buildings.  The  foundation-stones  are 
changed  too  often  to  insure  a  sense  of  security  to  the 
occupants.  No ;  my  trouble  is  that  I  don't  know." 

"You  have  a  great  many  friends,"  said  the  professor. 

"I  have  a  sufficient  number  of  invitations  to  make 
myself  generally  useful,"  said  Laurence,  "and  of  course 
they  imply  an  appreciation  of  my  social  gifts  which 
gratifies  me  ;  but  a  great  deal  depends  on  a  man's  ward- 
robe. I  might  as  well  be  without  talents  as  minus  a 
dress-coat.  It  interests  me  sometimes  to  recognize  a 
brother  in  the  '  song  and  dance  artist '  who  is  open  to 
engagements.  I,  my  dear  professor,  am  the  '  song  and 
dance  artist.'  When  I  am  agile  and  in  good  voice  I  ani 
recalled ;  but  they  would  not  want  me  if  I  were  hoarse 
and  out  of  spirits,  and  had  no  spangles." 

"You  might  get  something  better  than  you  have," 
said  the  professor,  reflectively.  "You  ought  to  get 
something." 

"  To  whom  shall  I  apply  ?  "  said  Laurence.  "Do  you 
think  the  President  would  receive  me  to-morrow  ?r 


342  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Perhaps  he  has  already  mentioned  his  anxiety  to  see 
me."  Then,  his  manner  changing,  he  added,  with  some 
huny,  "You  are  very  good,  but  I  think  it  is  of  no  use. 
The  mistake  was  in  letting  myself  drift  as  I  did.  It 
would  not  have  happened  if —  if  I  hadn't  been  a  fool. 
It  was  my  own  fault.  Thank  you  1  Don't  think  of  me. 
ft  wouldn't  pay  me  to  do  it  myself,  and  you  may  be 
sure  it  would  not  pay  you." 

And  he  shook  the  professor's  hand  and  left  him 
He  was  not  in  the  best  of  humor  when  he  reached 
the  street,  and  was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  of  late 
the  experience  had  not  been  as  rare  a  one  as  discretion 
should  have  made  it.  His  equable  enjoyment  of  his  ir- 
responsible existence  had  not  held  its  own  entirely  this 
winter.  It  had  been  disturbed  by  irrational  moods  and 
touches  of  irritability.  He  had  broken,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, the  strict  rules  he  had  laid  down  against  introspec- 
tion and  retrospection ;  he  had  found  himself  deviating 
in  the  direction  of  shadowy  regrets  and  discontents ; 
and  this  in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  no  previous  season 
had  presented  to  him  greater  opportunities  for  enjoyment 
than  this  one.  Certainly  he  counted  as  the  most  en- 
viable of  his  privileges  those  bestowed  upon  him  by  the 
inmates  of  the  new  establishment  in  Lafayette  Place. 
His  intimacy  with  the  Amorys  had  placed  him  upon 
a  more  familiar  footing  than  he  could  have  hoped  to 
attain  under  ordinary  circumstances,  and,  this  much 
gained,  his  social  gifts  and  appreciation  of  the  favor 
showed  him  did  the  rest. 

"Your  Mr.    Arbuthnot,"  remarked  Mrs.  Merriam, 
after  having  conversed  with  him  once  or  twice,  "  or,  I 
suppose,  I  ought  rather  to  say  little  Mrs.  Amory's  Mr. 
Arbuthnot,  is  a  wonderfully  suitable  person." 
"  Suitable  ?  "  repeated  Agnes.     "  For  what  ?  " 
"For   anything  —  for  everything.     He  would  never 
be  out  of  place,  and  his  civility  is  absolute  genius." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre's  smile  was  for  her  relative's  originality 
of  statement,  and  apparently  bore  not  the  slightest  ref» 
erence  to  Mr.  Arbuthnot  himself. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  343 

"People  are  never  entirely  impersonal,"  Mrs.  Mer- 
riam  went  on.  "  But  an  appearance  of  being  so  may 
be  cultivated,  as  this  gentleman  has  cultivated  his,  until 
it  is  almost  perfection.  He  never  projects  himself  into 
the  future.  When  he  picks  up  your  handkerchief  he 
does  not  appear  to  be  thinking  how  you  will  estimate 
his  civility  ;  he  simply  restores  you  an  article  you  woi  Id 
miss.  He  does  nothing  with  an  air,  and  he  never  fcr- 
gets  things.  Perhaps  the  best  part  of  his  secret  is  that 
he  never  forgets  himself." 

"I  am  afraid  he  must  find  that  rather  tiresome,"  Agnes 
remarked. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  "  no  one  could  forget 
herself  less  often  than  you  do.  That  is  the  secret  of 
your  repose  of  manner.  Privately  you  are  always  on 
guard,  and  your  unconsciousness  of  the  fact  arises  from 
the  innocence  of  youth.  You  are  younger  than  you 
think." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  rising  and  crossing  the 
room  to  move  a  yellow  vase  on  the  top  of  a  cabinet, 
"don't  make  me  begin  life  over  again." 

"  You  have  reached  the  second  stage  of  existence," 
«aid  the  older  woman,  her  bright  eyes  sparkling. 
There  are  three :  the  first,  when  one  believes  every- 
thing is  white ;  the  second,  when  one  is  sure  everything 
is  black ;  the  third,  when  one  knows  that  the  majority 
of  things  are  simply  gray." 

"  If  I  were  called  upon  to  find  a  color  for  your  favor- 
ite," said  Agnes,  bestowing  a  soft,  abstracted  smile  on 
the  yellow  vase,  "I  think  I  should  choose  gray.  He  is 
certainly  neutral." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  color,"  replied  Mrs.  Merriam ; 
"the  best  of  colors.  He  matches  everything,  —  one's 
tempers,  one's  moods,  one's  circumstances.  He  is  a 
very  excellent  color  indeed." 

"Yes,"  said  Agnes,  quietly. 

And  she  carried  her  vase  to  another  part  of  the  r^m, 
and  set  it  on  a  little  ebony  stand 


344  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

It  had  become  an  understood  thing,  indeed,  that  hei 
relative  found  Laurence  Arbuthnot  entertaining,  and 
was  disposed  to  be  very  gracious  toward  him.  On  his 
part  he  found  her  the  cleverest  and  most  piquant  of 
elderly  personages.  When  he  entered  the  room  where 
she  sat  it  was  her  habit  to  make  a  place  for  him  at  her 
own  side,  and  to  enjoy  a  little  agreeable  gossip  with  him 
before  letting  him  go.  After  they  had  had  a  few  such 
conversations  together  Arbuthnot  began  to  discover 
that  his  replies  to  her  references  to  himself  and  his  past 
had  not  been  so  entirely  marked  by  reticence  as  he  had 
imagined  when  he  had  made  them.  His  friend  had  a 
talent  for  putting  the  most  adroit  leading  questions, 
which  did  not  betray  their  significance  upon  the  surface  ; 
and  once  or  twice,  after  answering  such  a  one,  he  had 
seen  a  look  in  her  sparkling  old  eyes  which  led  him  to 
ponder  over  his  own  words  as  well  as  hers.  Still,  she 
was  always  astute  and  vivacious,  and  endowed  him  for 
the  time  being  with  a  delightful  sense  of  being  at  his 
best,  for  which  he  was  experienced  enough  to  be  grate- 
ful. He  had  also  sufficient  experience  to  render  him 
alive  to  the  fact  that  he  preferred  to  be  at  his  best  when 
it  was  his  good  fortune  to  adorn  this  particular  drawing- 
room  with  his  presence.  He  knew,  before  long,  that 
when  he  had  made  a  speech  upon  which  he  privately 
prided  himself,  after  the  manner  of  weak  humanity,  he 
found  it  agreeable  to  be  flattered  by  the  consciousness 
that  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  passion-flower-colored  eyes  were 
resting  upon  him  with  that  delicious  suggestion  of  re- 
flection. He  was  not  rendered  happier  by  the  knowl- 
edge of  this  susceptibility,  but  he  was  obliged  to  admit 
its  existence  in  himself.  Few  men  of  his  years  were  as 
little  prone  to  such  natural  weaknesses,  and  he  had  not 
attained  his  somewhat  abnormal  state  of  composure 
without  paying  its  price.  Perhaps  the  capital  had  been 
too  large. 

"If  one  has  less,  one  is  apt  to  be  more  economical," 
Bertha  had  heard  him  remark,  "and,  at  least,  retain  • 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  345 

small  annuity  to  exist  upon  in  one's  matarer  years.  I 
did  not  retain  such  an  annuity." 

Certainly  there  was  one  period  of  his  7ife  upon  which 
he  never  looked  back  without  a  shudder ;  and  this  being 
the  case,  he  had  taught  himself,  as  time  passed,  not  to 
look  back  upon  it  at  all.  He  had  also  taught  himself 
not  to  look  forward,  finding  the  one  almost  as  bad  as 
the  other.  As  Bertha  had  said,  he  was  not  fond  of 
affairs,  and  even  his  enemies  were  obliged  to  admit  that 
he  was  ordinarily  too  discreet  or  too  cold  to  engage  in 
the  most  trivial  of  such  agreeable  entanglements. 

"  If  I  pick  up  a  red-hot  coal,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  burn 
my  fingers,  even  if  I  throw  it  away  quickly.  Why 
should  a  man  expose  himself  to  the  chance  of  being 
obliged  to  bear  a  blister  about  with  him  for  a  day  or  so  ? 
If  I  may  be  permitted,  I  prefer  to  stand  before  the  fire 
and  enjoy  an  agreeable  warmth  without  personal  inter- 
ference with  the  blaze." 

Nothing  could  have  been  farther  from  his  intentions 
than  interference  with  the  blaze,  where  Mrs.  Sylvestre 
was  concerned ;  though  he  had  congratulated  himself 
upon  the  glow  her  grace  and  beauty  diffused,  certainly 
no  folly  could  have  been  nearer  akin  to  madness  than 
such  folly,  if  he  had  been  sufficiently  unsophisticated 
to  indulge  in  it.  And  he  was  not  unsophisticated ;  few 
were  less  so.  His  perfect  and  just  appreciation  of  his 
position  bounded  him  on  every  side,  and  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  him  to  lose  sight  of  it.  He  had 
never  blamed  any  one  but  himself  for  the  fact  that  he 
had  accomplished  nothing  particular  in  life,  and  had  no 
prospect  of  accomplishing  anything.  It  had  been  his 
own  fault,  he  had  always  said ;  if  he  had  been  a  bettei 
and  stronger  fellow  he  would  not  have  been  beaten 
down  by  one  blow,  however  sharp  and  heavy.  He  had 
given  up  because  he  chose  to  give  up  and  let  himself 
drift.  His  life  since  then  had  been  agrees t/le  enough ; 
he  had  had  his  moments  of  action  and  reaction ;  he  had 
laughed  on 3  day  and  felt  a  little  glum  the  next,  and  haJ 


346  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

let  one  mood  pay  for  the  next,  and  trained  himself  to 
expect  nothing  better.  He  had  not  had  any  inclination 
for  marriage,  and  had  indeed  frequently  imagined  that 
he  had  a  strong  disinclination  for  it ;  his  position  in  the 
Amory  household  had  given  him  an  abiding-place,  which 
was  like  having  a  home  without  bearing  the  responsi- 
bility of  such  an  incumbrance. 

"  I  regard  myself,"  Bertha  sometimes  said  to  him,  "as 
having  been  a  positive  boon  to  you.  If  I  had  not  been 
so  good  to  you  there  would  have  been  moments  when 
you  would  have  almost  wished  you  were  married ;  and 
if  you  had  had  such  moments  the  day  of  your  security 
would  have  been  at  an  end." 

"Perfectly  true,"  he  invariably  responded,  "and  I  am 
grateful  accordingly." 

He  began  to  think  of  this  refuge  of  his,  after  he  had 
walked  a  few  minutes.  He  became  conscious  that,  the 
longer  he  was  alone  with  himself,  the  less  agreeable  he 
found  the  situation.  There  was  a  sentence  of  the  pro- 
fessor's which  repeated  itself  again  and  again,  and  made 
him  feel  restive ;  somehow  he  could  not  rid  himself  of 
the  memory  of  it. 

"  No  man  who  had  trifled  with  himself  and  his  past 
could  offer  what  is  due  to  her."  It  was  a  simple  enough 
truth,  and  he  found  nothing  in  it  to  complain  of;  but  it 
was  not  an  exhilarating  thing  to  dwell  upon  and  be 
haunted  by. 

He  stopped  suddenly  in  the  street  and  threw  his  cigar 
away.  A  half-laugh  broke  from  him. 

"I  am  resenting  it,"  he  said.  "It  is  making  me  as 
uncomfortable  as  if  I  was  a  human  being,  instead  of  a 
mechanical  invention  in  the  employ  of  the  government. 
My  works  are  getting  out  of  order.  I  will  go  and  see 
Mrs.  Amory ;  she  will  give  me  something  to  think  of. 
She  always  does." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  entered  the  familiar  parlor. 
The  first  object  which  met  his  eye  was  the  figure  of 
Bertha,  and,  as  he  had  anticipated  would  be  the  case, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  i)4Y 

she  gave  him  something  to  think  of.  But  it  was  not 
exactly  the  kind  of  thing  he  had  hoped  for,  though  it 
was  something,  it  is  true,  which  he  had  found  himself 
confronted  with  once  or  twice  before.  It  was  something 
m  herself,  which  on  his  first  sight  of  her  presented 
itself  to  him  so  forcibly  that  it  gave  him  something  very 
near  a  shock. 

He  had  evidently  broken  in  upon  some  moment  of 
Absorbed  thought.  She  was  standing  near  the  mantel, 
her  hands  clasped  behind  her  head,  her  eyes  seeming 
fixed  on  space.  The  strangeness  of  her  attitude  struck 
him  first,  and  then  the  unusualness  of  her  dress,  whose 
straight,  long  lines  of  unadorned  black  revealed,  as  he 
had  never  seen  it  revealed  before,  the  change  which  had 
taken  place  in  her. 

She  dropped  her  hands  when  she  saw  him,  but  did 
not  move  toward  him. 

"Did  you  meet  Richard?"  she  said. 

"  No,"  he  replied.     "  Did  he  want  to  see  me  ?  " 

"He  said  something  of  the  kind,  though  I  am  not 
quite  sure  what  it  was." 

Their  eyes  rested  on  each  other  as  he  approached  her. 
In  the  questioning  of  hers  there  was  a  touch  of  defiance, 
but  he  knew  its  meaning  too  well  to  be  daunted  by  it. 

"  I  would  not  advise  you  to  wear  that  dress  again, " 
he  said. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked. 

"  Go  to  the  mirror  and  look  at  yourself,"  he  said. 

She  turned,  walked  across  the  room  with  a  slow, 
careless  step,  as  if  the  effort  was  scarcely  worth  while. 
There  was  an  antique  mirror  on  the  wall,  and  she 
stopped  before  it  and  looked  herself  over. 

"It  isn't  wise,  is  it?"  she  said.  "It  makes  me  look 
like  a  ghost.  No,  it  doesn't  make  me  look  like  one  ;  it 
?imply  shows  me  as  I  am.  It  couldn't  be  said  of  me 
just  now  that  I  am  at  my  best,  could  it?" 

Then  she  turned  around. 


348  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  don't  seein  to  care! "she  said.  "Don't  I  care! 
That  would  be  a  bad  sign  in  me,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  consider  it  one,"  he  answered.  "It  is  only 
in  novels  that  people  can  afford  not  to  care.  You  can- 
not afford  it.  Don't  wear  a  dress  again  which  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  you  are  so  ill  and  worn  as  to 
seem  only  a  shadow  of  yourself.  It  isn't  wise." 

"  Why  should  one  object  to  being  ill  ?  "  she  said.  "It 
is  not  such  a  bad  idea  to  be  something  of  an  invalid, 
after  all ;  it  insures  one  a  great  many  privileges.  It  is 
not  demanded  of  invalids  that  they  shall  always  be  bril- 
liant. They  are  permitted  to  be  pale,  and  silent,  and 
heavy-eyed,  and  lapses  are  not  treasured  up  against 
them."  She  paused  an  instant.  "  When  one  is  ill,"  she 
said,  "nothing  one  does  or  leaves  undone  is  of  any 
special  significance.  It  is  like  having  a  holiday." 

"  Do  you  want  to  take  such  a  holiday  ?  "  he  asked. 
"Do  you  need  it?" 

She  stood  quite  still  a  moment,  and  he  knew  she  did 
it  because  she  wished  to  steady  her  voice. 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  think  I  do." 

Since  he  had  first  known  her  there  had  been  many 
times  when  she  had  touched  him  without  being  in  the 
least  conscious  that  she  did  so.  He  had  often  found  her 
laughter  as  pathetic  as  other  people's  tears,  even  while 
he  had  joined  in  it  himself.  Perhaps  there  was  some- 
thing in  his  own  mood  which  made  her  seem  in  those 
few  words  more  touching  than  she  had  ever  been  before. 

" Suppose  you  begin  to  take  it  now,"  he  said,  "while 
I  am  with  you." 

She  paused  a  few  seconds  again  before  answering. 
Then  she  looked  up. 

"When  people  ask  you  how  I  am,"  she  said,  "you 
might  tell  them  that  I  am  not  very  well,  that  I  have  not 
been  well  for  some  time,  and  that  I  am  not  getting  bet- 
ter." 

"  Are  you  getting  —  worse?"  he  asked. 

Her  reply  —  if  reply  it  was  —  was  a  singular  one 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  349 

She  pushed  the  sleeve  of  her  black  dress  a  little  way 
from  her  wrist,  and  stood  looking  down  at  it  without 
speaking.  There  were  no  bangles  on  the  wrist  this 
morning,  and  without  these  adornments  its  slenderness 
seemed  startling.  The  small,  delicate  bones  marked 
themselves,  and  every  blue  vein  was  traceable. 

Neither  of  them  spoke,  and  in  a  moment  she  drew  the 
sleeve  down  again,  and  went  back  to  her  place  by  the 
fire.  To  tell  the  truth,  Arbuthnot  could  not  have 
spoken  at  first.  It  was  she  who  at  length  broke  the 
silence,  turning  to  look  at  him  as  he  sat  in  the  seat  he 
had  taken,  his  head  supported  by  his  hand. 

"Will  you  tell  me,"  she  said,  "what  has  hurt  you?" 

"  Why  should  you  ask  that?  "  he  said. 

"  I  should  be  very  blind  and  careless  of  you  if  I  had 
not  seen  that  something  had  happened  to  you,"  she  an- 
swered. "You  are  always  caring  for  me,  and  —  un- 
derstanding me.  It  is  only  natural  that  I  should  have 
learned  to  understand  you  a  little.  This  has  not  been 
a  good  winter  for  you.  What  is  it,  Larry?" 

"  I  wish  it  was  something  interesting,"  he  answered  ; 
"  but  it  is  not.  It  is  the  old  story.  I  am  out  of  humor. 
I'm  dissatisfied.  I  have  been  guilty  of  the  folly  of  not 
enjoying  myself  on  one  or  twc  occasions,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  it  irritates  me." 

w  It  is  always  indiscreet  not  to  enjoy  one's  self,"  she 
said. 

And  then  there  was  silence  for  a  moment,  while  she 
looked  at  him  again. 

Suddenly  she  broke  into  a  laugh,  —  a  laugh  almost 
hard  in  its  tone.  He  glanced  up  to  see  what  it 
meant. 

w  Do  you  want  to  know  what  makes  me  laugh  ?  "  she 
said.  "  I  am  thinking  how  like  all  this  is  the  old- 
fashioned  tragedy,  where  all  the  dramatis  persons  are 
disposed  of  in  the  last  act.  We  go  over  one  by  one, 
don't  we?  Soon  there  will  be  no  one  left  to  tell  the 
tale.  Even  Colonel  Tredennis  and  Richard  show 


350  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

of  their  approaching  doom.  And  you  —  some  one  has 
shown  you  your  dagger,  I  think,  and  you  know  you 
cannot  escape  it." 

"  I  am  the  ghost,"  he  answered ;  "  the  ghost  who  wa» 
disposed  of  before  the  tragedy  began,  and  whose  busi- 
ness  it  is  to  haunt  the  earth,  and  remind  the  rest  of  you 
that  once  I  had  blood  in  my  veins  too." 

He  broke  off  suddenly  and  left  his  seat.  The  expres- 
sion of  his  face  had  altogether  changed. 

"We  always  talk  in  this  strain,"  he  exclaimed.  " We 
are  always  jeering  I  Is  there  anything  on  earth,  any 
suffering  or  human  feeling,  we  could  treat  seriously  ?  If 
there  is,  for  God's  sake  let  us  speak  of  it  just  for  one 
hour." 

She  fixed  her  eyes  on  him,  and  there  was  a  sad  little 
smile  in  their  depths. 

"Yes,  you  have  seen  your  dagger,"  she  said.  "  You 
have  seen  it.  Poor  Larry  !  Poor  Larry  ! " 

She  turned  away  and  sat  down,  clasping  her  hands  on 
her  knee,  and  he  saw  that  suddenly  her  lashes  were 
wet,  and  thought  that  it  was  very  like  her  that, 
though  she  had  no  tears  for  herself,  she  had  them  for 
him. 

"  Don't  be  afraid  that  I  will  ask  you  any  questions," 
she  said.  "  I  won't.  You  never  asked  me  any.  Per- 
haps words  would  not  do  you  any  good." 

"Nothing  would  do  me  any  good  just  now,"  he 
answered.  "  Let  it  go  at  that.  It  mayn't  be  as  bad  as 
it  seems  just  for  the  moment  —  such  things  seldom  are. 
If  it  gets  really  worse,  I  suppose  I  shall  find  myself 
coming  to  you  some  day  to  make  my  plaint ;  but  it's 
very  good  in  you  to  look  at  me  like  that.  And  I  was 
a  fool  to  fancy  I  wanted  to  be  serious.  I  don't,  on  the 
whole." 

"  No,  you  were  not  a  fool,"  she  said.     "  There  is  na 
reason  why  you  should  not  be  what  you  want.     Lau 
rence,"with  something  like  sudden  determination  in  her 
tone,  "there  is  something  I  want  to  say  to  you." 


THKOUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  351 

"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

"I  have  got  into  a  bad  habit  lately,"  she  said,  —  "a 
bad  habit  of  thinking.  When  I  lie  awake  at  night"-— 

"Do  you  lie  awake  at  night?  "  he  interrupted. 

She  turned  her  face  a  little  away,  as  if  she  did  not 
wish  to  meet  his  inquiring  gaze. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  after  a  pause.  "  I  suppose  it  is 
because  of  this  —  habit.  I  can't  help  it;  but  it  doesn't 
matter." 

"Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "it  does  matter!  You  can't 
stand  it." 

"  Is  there  anything  people  '  cannot  stand '  ?  "  she  said. 
"  If  there  is,  I  should  like  to  try  it." 

"  You  may  well  look  as  you  do,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  may  well,"  she  answered.  "And  it  is  the 
result  of  the  evil  practice  of  thinking.  When  once  you 
begin,  it  is  not  easy  to  stop.  And  I  think  you  have 
begun." 

"  I  shall  endeavor  to  get  over  it,"  he  replied. 

"No,"  she  said,  "don't!" 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  stood  up  before  him, 
trembling,  and  with  two  large  tears  falling  upon  her 
cheeks. 

"Larry,"  she  said,  "that  is  what  I  wanted  to  say  — 
that  is  what  I  have  been  thinking  of.  I  shall  not  say  it 
well,  because  we  have  laughed  at  each  other  so  long  that 
it  is  not  easy  to  speak  of  anything  seriously  ;  but  I  must 
try.  See  I  I  am  tired  of  laughing.  I  have  come  to 
the  time  when  there  seems  to  be  nothing  left  but  tears 
—  and  there  is  no  help ;  but  you  are  different,  and  if 
you  are  tired  too,  and  if  there  is  anything  you  want, 
even  if  you  could  not  be  sure  of  having  it,  it  would  be 
better  to  be  trying  to  earn  it,  and  to  be  worthy  of  it." 

He  rested  his  forehead  on  his  hands,  and  kept  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  carpet. 

"  That  is  a  very  exalted  way  of  looking  at  things,"  he 
aaid,  in  a  low  voice.  "I  am  afraid  I  am  not  equal  to 
it." 


352  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"In  the  long  nights,  when  I  have  lain  awake  and 
thought  so,"  she  went  on,  "I  have  seemed  to  find  out 
that  —  there  were  things  worth  altering  all  one's  life 
for.  I  did  not  want  to  believe  in  them  at  first,  but  now 
it  is  different  with  me.  I  could  not  say  so  to  any  one 
but  you  —  and  perhaps  not  to  you  to-morrow  or  the  day 
after  — and  you  will  hear  me  laugh  and  jeer  many  a 
time  again.  That  is  my  fate  ;  but  it  need  not  be  yours. 
Your  life  is  your  own.  If  mine  were  my  own  —  oh,  if 
mine  were  my  own  !  "  She  checked  the  passionate  ex- 
clamation with  an  effort.  "  When  one's  life  belongs  to 
one's  self,"  she  added,  "  one  can  do  almost  anything  with 
it!" 

"  I  have  not  found  it  so,  "  he  replied. 

"You  have  never  tried  it,"  she  said.  "One  does  not 
think  of  these  things  until  the  day  comes  when  there  is 
a  reason  —  a  reason  for  everything  —  for  pain  and  glad- 
ness, for  hope  and  despair,  for  the  longing  to  be  better 
and  the  struggle  against  being  worse.  Oh,  how  can 
one  give  up  when  there  is  such  a  reason,  and  one's  life 
is  in  one's  own  hands !  I  am  saying  it  very  badly, 
Larry,  I  know  that.  Agnes  Sylvestre  could  say  it 
better,  though  she  could  not  mean  it  more." 

"  She  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  say  it  at  all,"  he 


Bertha  drew  back  a  pace  with  an  involuntary  move- 
ment. The  repressed  ring  of  bitterness  in  the  words 
had  said  a  great  deal. 

"Is  it  —  ?"  she  exclaimed,  involuntarily,  as  she 
had  moved,  and  then  stopped.  "I  said  I  "vould  not  ask 
questions,"  she  added,  and  clasped  her  hands  behind 
her  back,  standing  quite  still,  in  an  attitude  curiously 
expressive  of  igitation  and  suspense. 

"  What ! "  he  said  ;  "  have  I  told  you  ?  I  was  afraid  I 
mould.  Yes,  it  is  Mrs.  Sylvestre  who  has  disturbed 
me ;  it  is  Mrs.  Sylvestre  who  has  stirred  the  calm  of  ages." 

She  was  silent  a  second,  and  when  she  spoke  bei 
eyes  looked  very  large  and  bright. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTKA  HON.  353 

w  I  suppose,"  she  said,  slowly,  "that  it  is  very  womanish 
in  me, — that  I  almost  wish  it  had  been  some  one 
else." 

"Why? "he  asked. 

"  You  all  have  been  moved  by  Mrs.  Sylve^tre,"  she 
replied,  more  slowly  than  before,  —  "all  of  you." 

"  How  many  of  us  are  there  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Colonel  Tredennis  has  been  moved,  too,"  she  said 
"  Not  long  before  you  came  in  he  paid  me  a  brief  visit. 
He  does  not  come  often  now,  and  his  visits  are  usually 
for  Janey,  and  not  for  me.  I  displeased  him  the  night 
he  went  with  me  to  the  reception  of  the  Secretary  of 
State,  and  he  has  not  been  able  to  resign  himself  to  see- 
ing me  often ;  but  this  evening  he  came  in,  and  we 
talked  of  Mrs.  Sylvestre.  He  had  been  calling  upon 
her,  and  her  perfections  were  fresh  in  his  memory.  He 
finds  her  beautiful  and  generous  and  sincere  ;  she  is  not 
frivolous  or  capricious.  I  think  that  was  what  I 
gathered  from  the  few  remarks  he  made.  I  asked  him 
questions ;  you  see,  I  wanted  to  know.  And  she  has 
this  advantage,  —  she  has  all  the  virtues  which  the  rest 
of  us  have  not." 

"You  are  very  hard  on  Tredennis  sometimes,"  he 
said,  answering  in  this  vague  way  the  look  on  her  face 
which  he  knew  needed  answer. 

"Sometimes,"  she  said;  "sometimes  he  is  hard  on 
me." 

"  He  has  not  been  easy  on  me  to-day,"  he  returned. 

"  Poor  Larry  !  "  she  said  again.     "  Poor  Larry  I " 

He  smiled  a  little. 

"You  see  what  chance  I  should  be  likely  to  have 
against  such  a  rival,"  he  said.  "  I  wonder  if  it  cught 
io  be  a  consolation  to  me  to  reflect  that  my  position  is 
such  that  it  cannot  be  affected  by  rivals.  If  I  had  the 
field  to  myself  I  should  stand  exactly  where  I  do  at 
this  moment.  It  saves  me  from  the  risk  of  suffering, 
don't  you  see  ?  I  know  my  place  too  well  to  allow  my- 
self to  reach  that  point.  I  am  uncomfortable  only  be- 


354  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

cause  circumstances  have  placed  it  before  me  in  a  strong 
light,  and  I  don't  like  to  look  at  it." 

"What  is  your  place?"  she  asked. 

"It  is  in  the  Treasury,"  he  replied.  "The  salary  is 
not  large.  I  am  slightly  in  debt — to  my  tailor  and 
hosier,  who  are,  however,  patient,  because  they  think  1 
am  to  be  relied  on  through  this  administration." 

"I  wish  I  knew  what  to  say  to  you  I"  she  exclaimed. 
"  I  wish  I  knew  !  " 

"  I  wish  you  did,"  he  answered.  "  You  have  said  all 
ou  could.  I  wish  I  believed  what  you  say.  It  would 
more  dignified  than  to  be  simply  out  of  humor  with 
one's  self,  and  resentful." 

"  Larry,"  she  said,  gently,  "  I  believe  you  are  some- 
thing more." 

"  No  I  no  !  Nothing  more  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Noth- 
ing more,  for  Heaven's  sake  I  "  And  he  made  a  quick 
gesture,  as  if  he  was  intolerant  of  the  thought,  and 
would  like  to  move  it  away.  So  they  said  no  more  on 
this  subject,  and  began  soon  after  to  talk  about  Richard. 

"  What  did  you  mean,"  Arbuthnot  asked,  "  by  saying 
that  Richard  showed  signs  of  his  approaching  doom? 
Isn't  he  in  good  spirits  ?  " 

"  It  seems  incredible,"  she  answered,  "  that  Richard 
should  not  be  in  good  spirits ;  but  it  has  actually  seemed 
to  me  lately  that  he  was  not.  The  Westoria  lands 
appear  to  have  worried  him." 

"  The  Westoria  lands,"  he  repeated,  slowly. 

"  He  has  interested  himself  in  them  too  much,"  she 
said.  "  Things  don't  go  as  easily  as  he  imagined  they 
would,  and  it  annoys  him.  To-day"  — 

"What  happened  to-day?"  Laurence  asked,  as  she 
stopped. 

"  It  was  not  very  much,"  she  said  ;  "  but  it  was  unlike 
him.  He  was  a  little  angry." 

"With  whom?" 

"  With  me,  I  think.  Lately  I  have  thought  I  would 
like  to  go  abroad,  and  I  have  spoken  of  it  to  him  one* 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  35A 

or  twice,  and  ho  ha&  rather  put  it  off;  and  to-day  1 
wanted  to  speak  of  it  again,  and  it  seemed  the  wrong 
time,  somehow,  and  he  was  a  trifle  irritable  about  it. 
He  has  not  always  been  quite  him&elf  this  winter,  but 
he  has  never  been  irritable  with  me.  That  isn't  like 
him,  you  know." 

"  No,  it  isn't  like  him,"  was  Laurence's  comment. 

Afterward,  when  he  was  going  away,  he  asked  her  a 
question : 

"  Do  you  wish  very  much  to  go  abroad  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  You  think  the  change  would  do  you  good  ?  " 

"  Change  often  does  one  good,"  she  replied.  w  I 
should  like  to  try  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  try  it  myself,"  he  said.  "  Go,  if 
you  can,  though  no  one  will  miss  you  more  than  1 
•hall." 

And,  having  said  it,  he  took  his  departure. 


356  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXYI. 

BUT  Bertha  did  not  go  abroad,  and  the  seasoi 
reached  its  height  and  its  wane,  and,  though  Mis; 
Jessup  began  to  refer  occasionally  to  the  much-to-be 
regretted  delicacy  of  the  charming  Mrs.  Amory'i 
health,  there  seemed  but  little  alteration  in  her  rnod< 
of  life. 

"I  will  confide  to  you,"  she  said  to  Colonel  Tre- 
dennis,  "that  I  have  set  up  this  effective  little  air  of 
extreme  delicacy  as  I  might  set  up  a  carriage,  —  if  ] 
needed  one.  It  is  one  of  my  luxuries.  Do  you  remem- 
ber Lord  Farintosh's  tooth,  which  always  ached  when 
he  was  invited  out  to  dinner  and  did  not  want  to  go, — 
the  tooth  which  Ethel  Newcome  said  nothing  would 
induce  him  to  part  with  ?  My  indisposition  is  like  that. 
I  refuse  to  become  convalescent.  Don't  prescribe  for 
me,  I  beg  of  you." 

It  was  true,  as  she  had  said,  that  the  colonel  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  house  less  often  than  had  been  his 
wont,  and  that  his  visits  were  more  frequently  for  Janey 
than  for  herself.  "  You  will  never  hold  out  your  hand 
to  me  when  I  shall  not  be  ready  to  take  it,"  he  had  said ; 
but  she  did  not  hold  out  her  hand,  and  there  was 
nothing  that  he  could  do,  and  if  he  went  to  her  he  must 
find  himself  confronted  with  things  he  could  not  bear  to 
see,  and  so  he  told  himself  that,  until  he  was  needed,  it 
was  best  that  he  should  stay  away,  or  go  only  now  and 
then. 

But  he  always  knew  what  she  was  doing.  The 
morning  papers  told  him  that  she  was  involved  in 
the  old,  unceasing  round  of  excitement,  —  announcing 
that  she  was  among  the  afternoon  callers ;  that  she 
received  at  home  ;  that  she  dined,  )unched,  danced,  ap- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  357 

peared  at  charitable  entertainments,  and  was  seen  at  the 
theatre.  It  became  his  habit  to  turn  unconsciously  to 
tho  society  column  before  he  read  anything  else,  though 
ho  certainly  found  himself  none  the  happier  for  its 
perusal.  .*» 

But,  though  he  saw  Bertha  less  frequently,  he  did  not 
forget  Richard.  At  this  time  he  managed  to  see  him 
rather  often,  and  took  some  pains  to  renew  the  bloom 
of  their  first  acquaintance,  which  had,  perhaps,  shown 
itself  a  little  on  the  wane,  as  Richard's  friendships 
usually  did  in  course  oi  time.  And,  perhaps,  this 
waning  having  set  in,  Richard  was  not  at  first  invariably 
so  enthusiastically  glad  to  see  the  large  military  figure 
present  itself  in  his  office.  He  had  reasons  of  his  own 
for  not  always  feeling  entirely  at  ease  before  his  whilom 
favorite.  As  he  had  remarked  to  Planefield,  Philip  Tre- 
dennis  was  not  a  malleable  fellow.  He  had  unflinching 
habits  of  truth,  and  remorseless  ideas  of  what  a  man's 
integrity  should  be,  and  would  not  be  likely  to  look 
with  lenient  or  half-seeing  eyes  upon  any  palterings  with 
falsehood  and  dishonor,  however  colored  or  disguised. 
And  he  did  not  always  appear  at  the  most  convenient 
moment ;  there  were  occasions,  indeed,  when  his  unex- 
pected entrance  had  put  an  end  to  business  conferences 
of  a  very  interesting  and  slightly  exciting  nature. 
These  conferences  had,  it  is  true,  some  connection  with 
the  matter  of  the  Westoria  lands,  and  the  colonel  had 
lately  developed  an  interest  in  the  project  in  question 
which  he  had  not  shown  at  the  outset.  He  had  even 
begun  to  ask  questions  about  it,  and  shown  a  desire 
to  inform  himself  as  to  the  methods  most  likely  to  bo 
employed  in  manipulating  the  great  scheme.  He 
amassed,  in  one  way  and  another,  a  large  capital  of  infor- 
mation concerning  subsidies  and  land  grants,  and  ex- 
hibited remarkable  intelligence  in  his  mental  investment 
of  it.  Indeed,  there  were  times  when  he  awakened  in 
Richard  a  rather  uneasy  sense  of  admiration  by  the 
clearness  of  his  insight  and  the  practical  readiness  of 
his  views. 


358  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"  He  has  always  been  given  to  digging  into  things,* 
Amory  said  to  Planefield,  after  one  of  their  interviews. 
w  That  is  his  habit  of  mind,  and  he  has  a  steady  business 
capacity  you  don't  expect  to  find." 

"  What  is  he  digging  into  this  thing  for?"  Planefield 
asked.  "  He  will  be  digging  up  something,  one  of  these 
days,  that  we  are  not  particularly  anxious  to  have  dug 
up.  I  am  not  overfond  of  the  fellow  myself.  I  never 
was." 

Richard  laughed  a  trifle  uneasily. 

"  Oh,  he's  well  enough,"  he  said ;  "  though  I'll  admit 
he  has  been  a  little  in  the  way  once  or  twice." 

It  is  quite  possible  that  the  colonel  himself  had  not 
been  entirely  unaware  of  this  latter  fact,  though  he  had 
exhibited  no  signs  of  his  knowledge,  either  in  his  coun- 
tenance or  bearing;  indeed,  it  would  be  difficult,  for 
one  so  easily  swayed  by  every  passing  interest  as  Richard 
Amory  was,  to  have  long  resisted  his  manly  courtesy 
and  good  nature.  Men  always  found  him  an  agreeable 
companion,  and  he  made  the  most  of  his  powers  on  the 
occasions  which  threw  him,  or  in  which  he  threw  him- 
self, in  Amory's  way.  Even  Planefield  admitted  reluct- 
antly, once  or  twice,  that  the  fellow  had  plenty  in  him. 
It  was  not  long  before  Richard  succumbed  to  his  per- 
sonal influence  with  pleasurable  indolence.  It  would 
have  cost  him  too  much  effort  to  combat  against  it ;  and, 
besides  this,  it  was  rather  agreeable  to  count  among 
one's  friends  and  supporters  a  man  strong  enough  to 
depend  on  and  desirable  enough  to  be  proud  of.  There 
had  been  times  during  the  last  few  months  when  there 
would  have  been  a  sense  of  relief  in  the  feeling  that 
there  was  within  reach  a  stronger  nature  than  his  own, 
—  one  on  whose  strength  he  knew  he  could  rely.  As 
their  intimacy  appeared  to  establish  itself,  if  he  did  not 
openly  confide  in  Tredennis,  he  more  than  once  ap- 
proached the  borders  of  a  confidence  in  his  moments 
of  depression.  That  he  had  such  moments  had  become 
plain  He  did  not  even  look  so  bright  as  he  had  looked ; 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  358 

something  of  his  care-free,  joyous  air  had  deserted  him, 
and  now  and  then  there  were  to  be  seen  faint  lines  on 
his  forehead. 

"  There  is  a  great  deal  of  responsibility  to  be  borne 
in  a  matter  like  this,"  he  said  to  Tredennis,  "and  it 
wears  on  a  man."  To  which  he  added,  a  few  seconds 
later,  with  a  delightfully  unconscious  mixture  of  petu- 
lance and  protest :  "  Confound  it !  why  can't  things  as 
well  turn  out  right  as  wrong?" 

"  Have  things  1  >een  turning  out  wrong  ?  "  the  colonel 
ventured. 

Kichard  put  his  elbows  on  the  table  before  him,  and 
rested  his  forehead  on  his  hands  a  second. 

"Well,  yes,"  he  admitted;  "several  things,  and  just 
at  the  wrong  time,  too.  There  seems  a  kind  of  fate  in 
it,  — as  if  when  one  thing  began  the  rest  must  follow." 

The  colonel  began  to  bite  one  end  of  his  long  mus- 
tache reflectively  as  he  looked  at  the  young  man's  knitted 
brow. 

"  There  is  one  thing  you  must  understand  at  the  out- 
set," he  said,  at  length.  "  When  I  can  be  made  useful 
—  supposing  such  a  thing  were  possible —  I  am  here." 

Richard  glanced  up  at  him  quickly.  He  looked  a 
little  haggard  for  the  moment. 

"  What  a  steady,  reliable  fellow  you  are  1 "  he  said. 
"Yes,  I  should  be  sure  of  you  if — if  the  worst  came 
to  the  worst." 

The  colonel  bit  the  ends  of  his  mustache  all  the  way 
home,  and  more  than  one  passer-by  on  the  avenue  was 
aroused  to  wonder  what  the  subject  of  his  reflections 
might  be,  he  strode  along  with  so  absorbed  an  air,  and 
frowned  so  fiercely. 

w  I  should  like  to  know  what  the  worst  is,"  he  was 
saying  to  himself.  "  I  should  like  to  know  what  that 
means." 

It  was  perhaps  his  desire  to  know  what  it  meant  whicb 
led  him  to  cultivate  Richard  more  faithfully  still,  to  joifi 
him  on  the  street,  to  make  agreeable  bachelor  dinneri 


360  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

for  him,  to  carry  him  off  to  the  theatres,  and,  ma  quiet 
way,  to  learn  something  of  what  he  was  doing  each  day, 
It  was,  in  fact,  a  delicate  diplomatic  position  the  colo- 
nel occupied  in  these  days,  and  it  cannot  be  said  that  ha 
greatly  enjoyed  it  or  liked  himself  in  it.  He  was  too 
honest  by  nature  to  find  pleasure  in  diplomacy,  and 
\vhat  he  did  for  another  he  would  never  have  done  for 
himself.  For  the  sake  of  the  woman  who  rewarded  his 
generosity  and  care  with  frivolous  coldness  and  slight, 
he  had  undertaken  a  task  whose  weight  lay  heavily  upon 
him.  Since  his  first  suspicions  of  her  danger  had  been 
aroused  he  had  been  upon  the  alert  continually,  and 
had  seen  many  things  to  which  the  more  indifferent  or 
less  practical  were  blind.  As  Richard  had  casually 
remarked,  he  was  possessed  of  a  strong  business  sense 
and  faculty  of  which  he  was  not  usually  suspected,  and 
he  had  seen  signs  in  the  air  which  he  felt  boded  no  good 
for  Richard  Amory  or  those  who  relied  on  his  discre- 
tion in  business  affairs.  That  the  professor  had  inno- 
cently relied  upon  it  when  he  gave  his  daughter  into  his 
hands  he  had  finally  learned ;  that  Bertha  never  gave 
other  than  a  transient  thought  —  more  than  half  a  jest 
—  to  money  matters  he  knew.  Her  good  fortune  it- 
had  been  to  be  trammelled  neither  by  the  weight  of 
money  nor  the  want  of  it,  —  a  truly  enviable  condition, 
which  had,  not  unnaturally,  engendered  in  her  a  confi- 
dence at  once  unquestioning  and  somewhat  perilous. 
Tredennis  had  recalled  more  than  once  of  late  a  little 
scene  he  had  taken  part  in  on  one  occasion  of  her  sign- 
ing a  legal  document  Richard  had  brought  to  her. 

K  Shall  I  sign  it  here  ? "  she  had  said,  with  exagger- 
ated seriousness,  "  or  shall  I  sign  it  there  ?  What  would 
happen  to  me  if  I  wrote  on  the  wrong  line  ?  Could  not 
Laurence  sign  it  for  me  in  his  government  hand,  and 
give  it  an  air  of  distinction?  Suppose  my  hand  trem- 
bled and  I  made  a  blot?  I  am  not  obliged  to  read  it, 
ami?" 

"  I  think  I  should  insist  that  she  read  it,"  the  colonel 
bad  spdd  to  Richard,  with  some  abruptness. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  361 

Bertha  bad  looked  up  and  smiled, 

"  Shall  you  insist  that  I  read  it?  "  she  said ;  "I  know 
what  it  says.  It  says  *  whereas '  and  '  moreover '  and 
1  in  accordance  *  with  '  said  agreement '  and '  in  consider- 
ation of.'  Those  are  the  prevailing  sentiments,  and  I 
am  either  the  *  party  of  the  first  part '  or  the  '  party  of 
the  second  part ' ;  and  if  it  was  written  in  Sanskrit,  it 
would  be  far  clearer  to  my  benighted  mind  than  it  is  in 
its  present  lucid  form.  But  I  will  read  it  if  you  prefei 
it,  even  though  delirium  should  supervene." 

It  was  never  pleasant  to  Colonel  Tredennis  to  remem- 
ber this  trivial  episode,  and  the  memory  of  it  became 
a  special  burden  to  him  as  time  progressed  and  he  saw 
more  of  Amory's  methods  and  tendencies.  But  it  was 
scarcely  for  him  to  go  to  her,  and  tell  her  that  her  hus- 
band was  not  as  practical  a  business  man  as  he  should 
be ;  that  he  was  visionary  and  too  easily  allured  by 
glitter  and  speciousness.  He  could  not  warn  her  against 
him  and  reveal  to  her  the  faults  and  follies  she  seemed 
not  to  have  discovered.  But  he  could  revive  something 
of  Richard's  first  fancy  for  him,  and  make  himself  in  a 
measure  necessary  to  him,  and  perhaps  gain  an  influence 
over  him  which  might  be  used  to  good  purpose.  Possi- 
bly, despite  his  modesty,  he  had  a  half-conscious  knowl- 
edge of  the  power  of  his  own  strong  will  and  nature 
over  weaker  ones,  and  was  resolved  that  this  weak  one 
should  be  moved  by  them,  if  the  thing  were  possible. 

Nor  was  this  all.  There  were  other  duties  he  under- 
took, for  reasons  best  known  to  himself.  He  became 
less  of  a  recluse  socially,  and  presented  himself  moro 
frequently  in  the  fashionable  world.  He  was  no  fonder 
of  gayety  than  he  had  been  before,  but  he  faced  it  with 
patience  and  courage.  He  went  to  great  parties,  and 
made  himself  generally  useful.  He  talked  to  matrons 
who  showed  a  fancy  for  his  company,  and  was  the 
best  and  most  respectful  of  listeners ;  he  was  cour- 
teouu  and  attentive  to  both  chaperones  and  their 
charges,  and  by  quietly  persistent  good  conduct 


562  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

won  additional  laurels  upon  each  occasion  of  his  social 
appearance.  Those  who  had  been  wont  to  stand 
somewhat  in  awe  of  him,  finding  nothing  to  fear  on 
more  intimate  acquaintance,  added  themselves  to  the 
list  of  his  admirers.  Before  the  season  was  over  he 
had  made  many  a  stanch  friend  among  matronly  leaders 
of  fashion,  whose  word  was  law.  If  such  a  thing  could 
be  spoken  of  a  person  of  habits  so  grave,  it  might  have 
been  said  that  he  danced  attendance  upon  these  ladies , 
but,  though  such  a  phrase  would  seem  unfitting,  it  may 
certainly  be  remarked  that  he  walked  attendance  on 
them,  and  sought  their  favor  and  did  their  bidding  with 
a  silent  faithfulness  wonderful  to  behold.  He  accepted 
their  invitations  and  attended  their  receptions ;  he  es- 
corted them  to  their  carriages,  found  their  wraps,  and 
carried  their  light  burdens  with  an  imperturbable  de- 
meanor. 

"  What !  "  said  Bertha,  one  night,  when  she  had  seen 
him  in  attendance  on  the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of 
State,  whose  liking  for  him  was  at  once  strong  and 
warm ;  "  what !  is  it  Colonel  Tredennis  who  curries  the 
favor  of  the  rich  and  great?  It  has  seemed  so  lately. 
Is  there  any  little  thing  in  foreign  missions  you  desire, 
or  do  you  think  of  an  Assistant-Secretaryship?" 

"  There  is  some  dissatisfaction  expressed  with  regard 
to  the  Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James,"  was  his 
reply.  "It  is  possible  that  he  will  be  recalled.  In  that 
case  may  I  hope  to  command  your  influence  ?  " 

But,  many  a  time  as  he  carried  his  shawls,  or  made 
his  grave  bow  over  the  hand  of  a  stately  dowager,  a 
half-sad  smile  crossed  his  face  as  he  thought  of  the  true 
reason  for  his  efforts,  and  realized  with  a  generous  pang 
the  depth  of  his  unselfish  perfidy.  They  were  all  kind 
to  him,  and  he  was  grateful  for  their  favors ;  but  ho 
would  rather  have  been  in  his  room  at  work,  or  trying 
to  read,  or  marching  up  and  down,  thinking,  in  his  soli- 
tude. Janey  entertained  him  with  far  more  success 
than  the  prettiest  debutante  of  the  season  could  hope  to 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  363 

attain,  though  there  was  no  debutante  among  them  who 
did  not  think  well  of  him  and  admire  him  not  a  little. 
But  the  reason  which  brought  him  upon  this  brightly 
lighted  stage  of  action?  Well,  there  was  only  one 
reason  for  everything  now,  he  knew  full  well ;  for  his 
being  sadder  than  usual,  or  a  shade  less  heavy  of  heart ; 
for  his  wearing  a  darker  face  or  a  brighter  one ;  for  hia 
interest  in  society,  or  his  lack  of  interest  in  it ;  for  his 
listening  anxiously  and  being  upon  the  alert.  The 
reason  was  Bertha.  When  he  heard  her  name  men- 
tioned he  waited  in  silent  anxiety  for  what  followed  ; 
when  he  did  not  hear  it  he  felt  ill  at  ease,  lest  it  had 
been  avoided  from  some  special  cause. 

"What  she  will  not  do  for  herself,"  he  said,  "I  must 
try  to  do  for  her.  If  I  make  friends  and  win  their  y 
good  opinions  I  may  use  their  influence  in  the  future, 
if  the  worst  should  come  to  the  worst,  and  she  should 
need  to  be  upheld.  It  is  women  who  sustain  women  or 
condemn  them.  God  forbid  that  she  should  ever  lack 
their  protection  I " 

And  so  he  worked  to  earn  the  power  to  call  upon  this 
protection,  if  it  should  be  required,  and  performed  his 
part  with  such  steadfastness  of  purpose  that  he  made 
a  place  for  himself  such  as  few  men  are  fortunate  enough 
to  make. 

There  was  one  friendship  he  made  in  these  days, 
which  he  felt  would  not  be  likely  to  fade  out  or  dimin- 
ish in  value.  It  was  a  friendship  for  a  woman  almost 
old  enough  to  have  been  his  mother,  —  a  woman  who 
had  seen  the  world  and  knew  it  well,  and  yet  had  not  lost 
her  faith  or  charitable  kindness  of  heart.  It  was  the 
lady  whom  Bertha  had  seen  him  attending  when  she  had 
asked  him  what  object  he  had  in  view,  — the  wife  of  the 
Secretary  of  State,  whose  first  friendly  feeling  for  hiiu 
had  become  a  most  sincere  and  earnest  regard,  for 
which  he  was  profoundly  grateful. 

"A  man  to  whom  such  a  woman  is  kind  must  De 
grateful,"  he  had  said,  in  speaking  of  her  to  Agnes 


564  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

Sylvestie.  "  A  woman  who  is  good  and  generou,-,  who 
is  keen,  yet  merciful,  whose  judgment  is  ripo,  and 
whose  heart  is  warm,  who  has  the  discernment  of  maturi- 
ty and  the  gentleness  of  youth,  —  it  is  an  honor  to  know 
her  and  be  favored  by  her.  One  is  better  every  time 
one  is  thrown  with  her,  and  leaves  her  presence  with  a 
stronger  belief  in  all  good  things." 

It  had,  perhaps,  been  this  lady's  affection  for  Profes- 
sor Herrick  which  had,  at  the  outset,  directed  her 
attention  to  his  favorite ;  but,  an  acquaintance  once 
established,  there  had  been  no  need  of  any  other  impetus 
than  she  received  from  her  own  feminine  kindliness, 
quickness  of  perception,  and  sympathy.  The  interest  he 
awakened  in  most  feminine  minds  he  had  at  once 
awakened  in  her  own. 

"He  looks,"  she  said  to  herself,  "as  if  he  had  a 
story,  and  hardly  knew  the  depth  of  its  meaning 
himself." 

But,  though  she  was  dexterous  enough  at  drawing 
deductions,  and  heard  much  of  the  small  talk  of  society, 
she  heard  no  story.  He  was  at  once  soldier  and 
scholar ;  he  was  kind,  brave,  and  generous ;  men  spoke 
well  of  him,  and  women  liked  him  ;  his  past  and  present 
entitled  him  to  respect  and  admiration ;  but  there  wad 
no  story  mentioned  in  any  discussion  of  him.  He 
seemed  to  have  lived  a  life  singularly  uneventful,  so  far 
as  emotional  experiences  were  concerned. 

"Nevertheless,"  she  used  to  say,  when  she  gave  a 
few  moments  to  sympathetic  musing  upon  him,  "  never- 
theless "  — 

She  observed  his  good  behavior,  notwithstanding  he 
did  not  enjoy  himself  greatly  in  society.  He  was  atten- 
tive to  his  duties  without  being  absorbed  in  them,  and, 
when  temporarily  unoccupied,  wore  a  rather  weary  and 
abstracted  look. 

"  It  is  something  like  the  look,"  she  once  remarked 
inwardly,  "something  like  the  look  I  have  seen  in  the 
eyes  of  thai  bright  and  baffling  little  Mrs.  Amory,  who 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  365 

§eems  at  times  to  be  obliged  to  recall  herself  from 
somewhere." 

She  had  not  been  the  leader  of  this  world  of  hers 
without  seeing  many  things  and  learning  many  lessons ; 
and,  as  she  had  stood  giving  her  greeting  to  the  passing 
multitude  week  after  week,  she  had  gained  a  wonderful 
amount  of  experience  and  knowledge  of  her  kind.  She 
had  seen  so  many  weary  faces,  so  many  eager  ones,  so 
many  stamped  with  care  and  disappointment ;  bright 
eyes  had  passed  before  her  which  one  season  had  sad- 
dened ;  she  had  heard  gay  voices  change  and  soft  ones 
grow  hard ;  she  had  read  of  ambitions  frustrated  and 
hopes  denied,  and  once  or  twice  had  seen  with  a  pang 
that  somewhere  a  heart  had  been  broken. 

Naturally,  in  thus  looking  on,  she  had  given  some  at- 
tention to  Bertha  Amory,  and  had  not  been  blind  to  tba 
subtle  changes  through  which  she  had  passed.  She 
thought  she  could  date  the  period  of  these  changes. 
She  remembered  the  reception  at  which  she  had  first 
noted  that  the  girlish  face  had  begun  to  assume  a  maturer 
look,  and  the  girlish  vivacity  had  altered  its  tones. 
This  had  happened  the  year  after  the  marriage,  and  then 
Jack  had  been  born,  and  when  society  saw  the  young 
mother  again  the  change  in  her  seemed  almost  startling. 
She  looked  worn  and  pale,  and  showed  but  little  inter- 
est in  the  whirl  about  her.  It  was  as  if  suddenly  fatigue 
had  overtaken  her,  and  she  had  neither  the  energy  nor 
the  desire  to  rally  from  it.  But,  before  the  end  of  the 
season  she  had  altered  again,  and  had  a  touch  of  too 
brilliant  color,  and  was  gayer  than  ever. 

"Rather  persistently  gay,"  said  the  older  woman, 
w  That  is  it,  I  think." 

Lately  there  had  been  a  greater  change  still  and  a 
more  baffling  one,  and  there  had  appeared  upon  the 
scene  an  element  so  new  and  strange  as  to  set  all  ordi- 
nary conjecture  at  naught.  The  first  breath  of  rumor 
which  had  wafted  the  story  of  Planefield's  infatuation 
tod  the  Westoria  schemes  had  been  met  with  generous 


566  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

displeasure  and  disbelief;  but,  as  time  went  on,  it  had 
begun  to  be  more  difficult  to  make  an  effort  against  dis- 
cussion which  grew  with  each  day  and  gathered  material 
as  it  passed  from  one  to  another.  The  most  trivial  cir- 
cumstance assumed  the  proportions  of  proof  when 
viewed  in  the  light  of  the  general  too  vivacious  interest. 
When  Senator  Planefield  entered  a  room  people  in- 
stantly cast  about  in  search  of  Mrs.  Amory,  and  reposed 
entire  confidence  in  the  immediately  popular  theory 
that,  but  for  the  presence  of  the  one,  the  absence  of  the 
other  would  have  been  a  foregone  conclusion.  If  they 
met  each  other  with  any  degree  of  vivacity  the  fact  was 
commented  upon  in  significant  asides  ;  if  Bertha's  man- 
ner was  cold  or  quiet  it  wae  supposed  to  form  a  por- 
tion of  her  deep-laid  plan  for  the  entire  subjugation  of 
her  victim.  It  had,  indeed,  come  to  this  at  last,  and 
Tredennis'  friend  looked  on  and  listened  bewildered  to 
find  herself  shaken  in  her  first  disbelief  by  an  aspect 
of  affairs  too  serious _to  be  regarded  with  indifference. 
By  the  time  the  season  drew  toward  its  close  the  rumor, 
which  had  at  first  been  accepted  only  by  rumor-lovers 
and  epicures  in  scandal,  had  found  its  way  into  places 
where  opinion  had  weight,  and  decision  was  a  more 
serious  matter.  In  one  or  two  quiet  establishments 
there  was  private  debating  of  various  rather  troublesome 
questions,  in  which  debates  Mrs.  Amory's  name  was 
frequently  mentioned.  Affairs  as  unfortunate  as  the 
one  under  discussion  had  been  known  to  occur  before, 
and  it  was  not  impossible  that  they  might  occur  again ; 
it  was  impossible  to  be  blind  to  them ;  it  was  impossible 
to  ignore  or  treat  them  lightly,  and  certainly  something 
was  due  to  society  from  those  who  held  its  reins  in 
their  hands  for  the  time  being. 

"It  is  too  great  leniency  which  makes  such  things 
possible,"  some  one  remarked.  "To  a  woman  with  a 
hitherto  unspot  ted  reputation  and  in  an  entirely  respect- 
able position  they  should  be  impossible." 

It  was  on  the  very  evening  that  this  remark  was  made 


THROUGH  ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  3t>7 

that  Bertha  expressed  a  rather  curious  opinion  to  Lau- 
rence Arbuthnot. 

"  It  is  dawning  upon  me,"  she  said,  "  that  I  am  not 
quite  so  popular  as  I  used  to  be,  and  I  am  wondering 
why." 

"  What  suggested  the  idea  ?  "  Laurence  inquired. 

"I  scarcely  know,"  she  replied,  a  little  languidly, 
"and  I  don't  care  so  much  as  I  ought.  People  don't 
talk  to  me  in  so  animated  a  manner  as  they  used  to  — 
or  I  fancy  they  don't.  I  am  not  very  animated  myself, 
perhaps.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  that.  I  know  I  am 
deteriorating  conversationally.  What  I  say  hasn't  the 
right  ring  exactly,  and  I  suppose  people  detect  the  false 
note,  and  don't  like  it.  I  don't  wonder  at  it.  Oh, 
there  is  no  denying  that  I  am  not  so  much  overpraised 
and  noticed  as  I  used  to  be  ! " 

And  then  she  sat  silent  for  some  time  and  appeared 
to  be  reflecting,  and  Laurence  watched  her  with  a  dawn- 
ing sense  of  anxiety  he  would  have  been  reluctant  to 
admit  the 'existence  of  even  to  himself. 


868  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXVH. 

A  FEW  days  after  this  she  tcld  Richard  that  sbt 
wished  to  begin  to  make  her  arrangements  for  going 
away  for  the  summer. 

"  What,  so  early  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  an  air  of  some 
slight  discontent.  "It  has  been  quite  cool  so  far." 

"  I  remained  too  late  last  year,"  she  answered  ;  "  and 
I  want  to  make  up  for  lost  time." 

They  were  at  dinner,  and  he  turned  his  wineglass 
about  restlessly  on  the  table-cloth. 

"Are  you  getting  tired  of  Washington?"  he  asked. 
"You  seem  to  be." 

"  I  am  a  little  tired  of  everything  just  now,"  she  said  ; 
w  even  "  —  with  a  ghost  of  a  laugh  —  "  of  the  Westorla 
.ands  and  Senator  Planefield." 

He  turned  his  wineglass  about  again. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  his  voice  going  beyond  the  borders 
of  petulance,  "  it  is  plain  enough  to  see  that  you  have 
taken  an  unreasonable  dislike  to  Planefield  ! " 

"He  is  too  large  and  florid,  and  absorbs  too  mush  of 
one's  attention,"  she  replied,  coldly. 

"  He  does  not  always  seem  to  absorb  a  great  deal  of 
yours,"  Richard  responded,  knitting  his  delicate  dark 
brows.  "  You  treated  him  cavalierly  enough  last  nighl , 
when  he  brought  you  the  roses." 

"  I  am  tired  of  his  roses  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  sudden 
passion.  "They  are  too  big,  and  red,  and  heavy.  They 
cost  too  much  money.  They  fill  all  the  air  about  me. 
They  weight  me  down,  and  I  never  seem  to  be  rid  of 
them.  I  won't  have  any  more  !  Let  him  give  them  tn 
some  one  else  ! "  A  nd  she  threw  her  bunch  of  grapes 
on  her  plate,  and  dropped  her  forehead  on  her  hand* 
with  a  childish  gesture  of  fatigue  and  despair. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  369 

.Richard  knit  his  brows  again.  He  regarded  her  with 
a  feeling  very  nearly  approaching  nervous  dread.  This 
would  not  do,  it  was  plain. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  said.  "What 
has  happened?  It  isn't  like  you  to  be  unreasonable, 
Bertha." 

She  made  an  effort  to  recover  herself,  and  partly  suc- 
ceeded. She  lifted  her  face  and  spoke  quite  gently  and 
deprecatingly. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "1  don't  think  it  is ;  so  you  will  be 
all  the  readier  to  overlook  it,  and  allow  it  to  me  as  a 
luxury.  The  fact  is,  Richard,  I  am  not  growing  any 
stronger,  and  "  — 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  interrupted,  "  I  don't  understand 
that.  You  used  to  be  strong  enough." 

"  One  has  to  be  very  strong  to  be  strong  enough" 
she  replied,  "  and  I  seem  to  have  fallen  a  little  short  of 
the  mark." 

"But  it  has  been  going  on  rather  a  long  time,  hasn't 
it  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  Didn't  it  begin  last  winter  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  in  a  low  voice,  "  it  began  then." 

"  Well,  you  see,  that  is  rather  long  for  a  thing  of  that 
sort  to  go  on  without  any  special  reason." 

"  It  has  seemed  so  to  me,"  she  responded,  without 
any  change  of  tone. 

"  Haven't  you  a  pre.tty  good  appetite  ?  "  he  inquired. 

She  raised  her  eyes  suddenly,  and  then  dropped  them 
again.  He  had  not  observed  what  a  dozen  other  people 
had  seen. 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

"  Don't  you  sleep  well  ?  " 

"No." 

"Are  you  thinner?  Well,  yes,"  giving  her  a  glance 
of  inspection.  "  You  are  thinner.  Oh  !  come,  now, 
this  won't  do  at  all ! " 

"  I  am  willing  to  offer  any  form  of  apology  you  like," 
she  said. 

"You  must  get  well,"  he  answered;  "that  is  all/ 


870  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

And  he  rose  from  his  seat,  went  to  the  mantel  for  • 
cigarette,  and  returned  to  her  side,  patting  her  shoulder 
encouragingly.  "You  would  not  be  tired  of  Plane- 
field  if  you  were  well.  You  would  like  him  well 
enough." 

The  change  which  settled  on  her  face  was  one  which 
had  crossed  it  many  a  time  without  his  taking  note  of 
it.  Possibly  the  edge  of  susceptibilities  so  fine  and 
keen  as  his  is  more  easily  dulled  than  that  of  sensitive- 
ness less  exquisite.  She  arose  herself. 

"  That  offers  me  an  inducement  to  recover,"  she  said. 
"  I  will  begin  immediately  —  to-day  —  this  moment. 
Let  me  light  your  cigarette  for  you." 

After  it  was  done  they  sauntered  into  the  library  to- 
gether and  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  at  length,  laying  her  hand 
on  his  sleeve,  "  I  think  even  you  are  not  quite  yourself. 
Are  you  an  invalid,  too?" 

"  I,"  he  said.     "  Why  do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"For  a  very  good  reason,"  she  answered.  " For  the 
best  of  reasons.  Two  or  three  times  lately  you  have 
been  a  trifle  out  of  humor.  Are  you  aware  of  it? 
Such,  you  see,  is  the  disadvantage  of  being  habitually 
amiable.  The  slightest  variation  of  your  usuaPy  an- 
gelic demeanor  lays  you  open  to  the  suspicion  of  bodily 
ailment.  Just  now,  for  instance,  at  table,  when  I  spoke 
to  you  about  going  away,  you  were  a  little  —  not  to  put 
too  tine  a  point  upon  it  —  cross." 

"Was  I?" 

Her  touch  upon  his  sleeve  was  Very  soft  ard  kind, 
and  her  face  had  a  gentle,  playful  appeal  on  it. 

"You  really  were,"  she  returned.  "Just  a  little  — 
and  so  was  I.  It  was  more  a  matter  of  voice  and  man- 
ner, of  course ;  but  we  didn't  appear  to  our  greatest 
advantage,  I  am  afraid.  And  we  have  never  done 
things  like  that,  you  know,  and  it  would  be  rather  bad 
to  begin  now,  wouldn't  it?" 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  371 

"It  certainly  would,"  he  replied.  "And  it  is  very 
nice  in  you  to  care  about  it." 

"It  would  not  be  nice  in  me  not  to  care,"  she  said. 
"Just  for  a  moment,  you  know,  it  actually  sounded 
quite  —  quite  married.  It  seemed  as  if  we  were  on  the 
verge  of  agreeing  to  differ  about —  Senator  Planefield." 

"  We  won't  do  it  again,"  he  said.  "  We  will  agree  to 
make  the  best  of  him." 

She  hesitated  a  second. 

"  I  will  try  not  to  make  the  worst,"  she  returned. 
"  There  is  always  a  best,  I  suppose.  And  so  long  as 
you  are  here  to  take  care  of  me,  I  need  not  —  need  not 
be  uncomfortable." 

"  About  what?  "  he  asked. 

She  hesitated  again,  and  a  shade  of  new  color  touched 
her  cheek. 

WI  don't  think  I  am  over-fastidious,"  she  said,  "but 
he  has  a  way  I  don't  like.  He  is  too  fulsome.  He  ad- 
mires me  too  much.  He  pays  me  too  many  compli- 
ments. I  wish  he  would  not  do  it." 

"Oh  !  come,  now,"  he  said,  gayly,  "that  is  prejudice  ! 
It  is  worse  than  all  the  rest.     I  never  heard  you  com- 
plain  of  your  admirers    before,  or   of  their   compli 
ments." 

She  hesitated  a  moment  again.  It  was  not  the  first 
time  she  had  encountered  this  light  and  graceful  obsti- 
nacy, and  found  it  more  difficult  to  cope  with  than 
words  apparently  more  serious. 

"  I  have  never  had  an  admirer  of  exactly  that  quality 
before,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  airily,  "  don't  argue  from  the  ground 
that  it  is  a  bad  quality ! " 

"  Has  il  never  struck  you,"  she  suggested,  w  that 
there  is  something  of  the  same  quality,  whether  it  is 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  in  all  the  persons  who  are 
connected  with  the  Westoria  lands  ?  I  have  felt  once 
or  twice  lately,  when  I  have  looked  around  the  parlors, 
as  if  I  must  have  suddenly  emigrated,  the  atmosphere 


872  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

was  so  different.  They  have  actually  rather  crowded 
out  the  rest  —  those  men." 

It  was  his  turn  to  pause  now,  and  he  did  so,  looking 
out  of  the  window,  evidently  ill  at  ease,  and  hesitant  for 
the  moment. 

"My  dear  child,"  he  said,  at  length,  "there  may  be 
truth  in  what  you  say ;  but  —  I  may  as  well  be  frank 
with  you  —  the  thing  is  necessary." 

"Richard,"  she  said,  quickly,  prompted  to  the  ques- 
tion by  a  sudden,  vague  thought,  "what  have  you  to  do 
with  the  Westoria  lands  ?  Why  do  you  care  so  much 
about  them?" 

"  I  have  everything  to  do  with  them  —  and  nothing," 
he  answered.  "  The  legal  business  connected  with  them, 
and  likely  to  result  from  the  success  of  the  scheme,  will 
be  the  making  of  me,  that  is  all.  I  haven't  been  an 
immense  success  so  far,  you  know,  and  it  will  make  me 
an  immense  success  and  a  man  of  property.  Upon  my 
word,  a  nice  little  lobbyist  you  are,  to  look  frightened 
at  the  mere  shadow  of  a  plot !  " 

"  I  am  not  a  lobbyist,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I  never 
wanted  to  be  one.  That  was  only  a  part  of  the  non- 
sense I  have  talked  all  my  life.  I  have  talked  too  much 
nonsense.  I  wish  —  I  wish  I  had  been  different !  " 

"Don't  allow  your  repentance  to  be  too  deep,"  he 
remarked,  dryly.  "You  won't  be  able  to  get  over  it." 

"  It's  too  late  for  repentance  ;  but  I  shall  not  be 
guilty  of  that  particular  kind  of  folly  again.  It  was 
folly —  and  it  was  bad  taste  "  — 

"  As  I  had  not  observed  it,  you  might  have  beeu  con- 
tent to  let  it  rest,"  he  interrupted. 

Sha  checked  herself  in  the  reply  she  was  about  to 
make,  clasping  her  hands  helplessly. 

"  O  Richard  ! "  she  said ;  "  we  are  beginning  again  I  * 

"  So  we  are,"  he  responded,  coolly ;  "  we  seem  to  have 
a  tendency  in  that  direction." 

"And  it  always  happens,"  she  said,  "when  I  speak 
of  Senator  PJanefield,  or  of  going  away." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  373 

w  You  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  wanting  to  go 
away  lately,"  he  answered.  "You  wanted  to  go  to 
Europe  " — 

"  I  want  to  go  still,"  she  interposed,  "  very  much." 

"And  I  wish  you  to  remain  here,"  he  returned,  petu- 
lantly. "What's  the  use  of  a  man's  having  a  wife  at 
the  other  side  of  the  globe  ?  " 

She  withdrew  a  pace  and  leaned  against  the  side  c,f 
the  window,  letting  her  eyes  rest  upon  him  with  a  little, 
bittor  smile.  For  the  moment  she  had  less  care  of  her- 
self and  of  him  than  she  had  ever  had  before. 

"  Ah  ! "  she  said,  "  then  you  keep  me  here  because  you 
love  me  ?  " 

w  Bertha !  "  he  exclaimed. 

Even  his  equable  triviality  found  a  disturbing  ele- 
ment in  the  situation. 

"Richard,"  she  said,  "go  and  finish  your  cigarette 
out  of  doors.  It  will  be  better  for  both  of  us.  This 
has  gone  far  enough." 

"It  has  gone  too  far,"  he  answered,  nervously.  "It 
is  deucedly  uncomfortable,  and  it  isn't  our  way  to  be 
uncomfortable.  Can't  we  make  it  smooth  again?  Of 
course  we  can.  It  would  not  be  like  you  to  be  im- 
placable. I  am  afraid  I  was  a  trifle  irritable.  The  fact 
is,  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  business  anxiety  lately, — 
one  or  two  investments  have  turned  out  poorly,  —  and 
it  has  weighed  on  my  mind.  If  the  money  were  mine, 
you  know  ;  but  it  is  yours  "  — 

"I  have  never  wished  you  to  feel  the  difference,"  she 
said. 

"No,"  he  replied.  "Nothing  could  have  been  nicer 
thin  your  way  about  it.  You  might  have  made  me 
very  uncomfortable,  if  you  had  been  a  hard,  business- 
like creature;  but,  instead  of  that,  you  have  been 
charming." 

"I  am  glad  of  thai,"  she  said,  and  she  smiled  gently 
as  he  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"You  have  a  right  to  your  caprices,"  he  said.     "Go 


374  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

to  your  summer  haunts  of  vice  and  fashion,  if  you  w:sh 
to,  and  I  will  follow  you  as  soon  as  I  can ;  but  we  won't 
say  any  more  about  Europe,  just  at  present,  will  we' 
Perhaps  next  year." 

And  he  kissed  her  again. 

"Perhaps  next  year  or  the  year  after,"  she  repeated, 
with  a  queer  little  smile.  "And  —  and  we  will  tako 
Senator  Planefield  with  us." 

"No,"  he  answered,  "  we  will  leave  him  at  home  to 
invest  the  millions  derived  from  the  Westoria  lands. " 

And  he  went  out  with  a  laugh  on  his  lips. 

A  week  later  Colonel  Tredennis  heard  from  Richard 
that  Bertha  and  the  children  were  going  away. 

"  When  ?  "  asked  the  colonel.  "  That  seems  rather 
sudden.  I  saw  Janey  two  days  ago,  and  did  not  under- 
stand that  the  time  was  set  for  their  departure." 

"  It  is  rather  sudden,"  said  Richard.  "The  fact  is, 
they  leave  Washington  this  morning.  I  should  be  witb 
them  now  if  it  were  not  for  a  business  engagement." 


THKOUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  375 


CHAPTER    XXVm. 

THE  next  few  weeks  were  not  agreeable  ones  to  Rich- 
ard Amory.  There  was  too  much  feverish  anxiety  and 
uncertainty  in  them.  He  had  not  yet  acquired  the 
coolness  and  hardihood  of  experience,  and  he  felt  their 
lack  in  himself.  He  had  a  great  deal  at  stake,  more 
than  at  the  outset  it  had  seemed  possible  he  could  have 
under  any  circumstances.  He  began  to  realize,  with 
no  little  discomfort,  that  he  had  run  heavier  risks  than 
he  had  intended  to  allow  himself  to  be  led  into  running. 
When  they  rose  before  him  in  their  full  magnitude,  as 
they  did  occasionally  when  affairs  assumed  an  unen- 
couraging  aspect,  he  wished  his  enthusiasm  had  been 
less  great.  It  could  not  be  said  that  he  had  reached 
remorse  for,  or  actual  repentance  of,  his  indiscretions ; 
he  had  simply  reached  a  point  when  discouragement  led 
him  to  feel  that  he  might  be  called  upon  to  repent  by 
misfortune.  Up  to  this  time  it  had  been  his  habit  to 
drive  up  to  the  Capitol  in  his  coupe,  to  appear  in  the 
galleries,  to  saunter  through  the  lobby,  and  to  flit  in 
and  out  of  committee-rooms  with  something  of  the  air 
of  an  amateur  rather  enjoying  himself;  he  had  made 
himself  popular ;  his  gayety,  his  magnetic  manner,  his 
readiness  to  be  all  things  to  all  men  had  smoothed  his 
pathway  for  him,  while  his  unprofessional  air  had  given 
him  an  appearance  of  harmlessness. 

"  He's  a  first-rate  kind  of  fellow  to  have  on  the  ground 
when  a  thing  of  this  sort  is  going  on,"  one  of  the  smaller 
satellites  once  remarked.  "  Nobody's  afraid  of  being 
seen  with  him.  There's  an  immense  deal  in  that.  There 
are  fellows  who  come  here  who  can  half  ruin  a  man  with 
position  by  recognizing  him  on  the  street.  Regular  old 
hands  they  are,  working  around  here  for  years,  making 


376  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

an  honest  living  out  of  their  native  land.  Every  on« 
knows  them  and  what  they  are  up  to.  Now,  this  on« 
is  different,  and  that  wife  of  his  "  — 

"What  has  she  been  doing?"  flung  in  Planefield,  who 
was  present.  "  What  has  she  got  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

He  said  it  with  savage  uneasiness.  He  was  full  of 
restive  jealousy  and  distrust  in  these  days. 

"  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  she  is  known  in  society ," 
he  remarked,  "and  she  is  the  kind  the  most  particular 
of  those  fellows  don't  object  to  calling  on." 

But,  as  matters  took  form  and  a  more  critical  point 
was  neared ;  as  the  newspapers  began  to  express  them- 
selves on  the  subject  of  the  Westoria  lands  scheme,  and 
prophesy  its  failure  or  success ;  as  it  became  the  subject 
of  editorials  applauding  the  public-spiritedness  of  those 
most  prominent  in  it,  or  of  paragraphs  denouncing  the 
corrupt  and  self-seeking  tendency  of  the  times  ;  as  the 
mental  temperature  of  certain  individuals  became  a 
matter  of  vital  importance,  and  the  degree  of  cordiality 
of  a  greeting  an  affair  of  elation  or  despair, — Richard 
felt  that  his  air  of  being  an  amateur  was  becoming  a 
thing  of  the  past.  He  was  too  anxious  to  keep  it  up 
well ;  he  did  not  sleep  at  night,  and  began  to  look 
fagged,  and  it  required  an  effort  to  appear  at  ease. 

"  Confound  it !  "  he  said  to  Planefield,  "  how  can  one 
be  t  i  ease  with  a  man  when  his  yes  or  no  may  be  suc- 
cess ir  destruction  to  you  ?  It  makes  him  of  too  much 
consequence.  A  fellow  finds  himself  trying  to  please, 
and  it  spoils  his  manner.  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to 
feel  a  human  being  of  any  particular  consequence  before." 

"  You  have  been  lucky,"  commented  Planefield,  not 
Ux>  tolerantly. 

"  I  have  been  lucky,"  Richard  answered ;  "  but  I'm  not 
lucky  now,  and  I  shall  be  deucedly  unlucky  if  that  bil] 
doesn't  pass.  The  fact  is,  there  are  times  when  I  half 
wish  I  hadn't  meddled  with  it." 

*  The  mistake  you  made,"  said  Planefield,  with  stolid 
ill-humor,  "was  in  letting  Mrs.  Amory  go  away. 


THROUGH   ONE   AD31INISTRATION.  377 

is  the  time  you  need  her  most.  There's  no  denying 
that  there  are  some  things  women  can  do  better  than 
men ;  and  when  a  man  has  a  wife  as  clever  as  yours, 
and  as  much  of  a  social  success,  he's  blundering  when 
he  doesn't  call  on  her  for  assistance.  One  or  two  of 
her  little  dinners  would  be  the  very  things  just  now  foi 
the  final  smoothing  down  of  one  or  two  rough  ones  who 
haven't  opinions  unless  you  provide  them  with  them. 
She'd  provide  them  with  them  fast  enough.  They'd  only 
have  one  opinion  when  she'd  done  with  them,  if  she  was 
in  one  of  the  moods  I've  seen  her  in  sometimes.  Look 
how  she  carried  Bowman  and  Pell  off  their  feet  the 
night  she  gave  them  the  description  of  that  row  in  the 
House.  And  Hargis,  of  North  Carolina,  swears  by  her ; 
he's  a  simple,  domesticated  fellow,  and  was  homesick 
the  night  I  brought  him  here,  and  she  found  it  out,  — 
Heaven  knows  how,  —  and  talked  to  him  about  his  wife 
and  children  until  he  said  he  felt  as  if  he'd  seen  them. 
He  told  me  so  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  It  is  that  kind 
of  thing  we  want  now." 

"Well,"  said  Richard,  nervously,  "  it  isn't  at  our  dis- 
posal. I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  she  was  rather  out 
of  humor  with  the  aspect  of  affairs  before  she  went 
away,  and  I  had  one  interview  with  her  which  showed 
me  it  would  be  the  safest  plan  to  let  her  go." 

"  Out  of  humor ! "  said  Planefield.  "  She  has  been  a 
good  deal  out  of  humor  lately,  it  seems  to  me.  Not 
that  it's  any  business  of  mine ;  but  it's  rather  a  pity, 
considering  circumstances." 

Richard  colored,  walked  a  few  steps,  put  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  and  took  them  out  again.  Among  the 
chief  sources  of  anxious  trouble  to  him  had  been  that 
of  late  he  had  found  his  companion  rather  difficult  to 
get  along  with.  He  had  been  irritable,  and  even  a  trifle 
overbearing,  and  had  at  times  exhibited  an  indifference 
to  results  truly  embarrassing  to  cor  template,  in  view  of 
the  crisis  at  hand.  When  he  intrenched  himself  behind 
a  certain  heavy  stubbornness,  in  which  he  was  specialty 


378  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

strong,  Richard  felt  himself  helpless.  The  big  body,  the 
florid  face,  the  doggedly  unresponsive  eye,  were  too 
much  to  combat  .against.  When  he  was  ill-humored 
Richard  knew  that  he  endeavored  to  concili?ite  him  ;  but 
when  this  mood  held  possession  he  could  only  feel  alarm 
and  ask  himself  if  it  could  be  possible  that,  after  all, 
the  man  might  be  brutal  and  false  enough  to  fail  him. 
There  were  times  when  he  sat  and  looked  at  him  unwil- 
lingly, fascinated  by  the  likeness  he  found  in  him  to  tho 
man  who  had  sent  poor  Westor  to  his  doom.  Naturally, 
the  old  story  had  been  revived  of  late,  and  he  heard 
new  versions  of  it  and  more  minute  descriptions  of  the 
chief  actors,  and  it  was  not  difficult  for  an  overwrought 
imagination  to  discover  in  the  two  men  some  similarity 
of  personal  characteristics.  Just  at  this  moment  there 
rose  within  him  a  memory  of  a  point  of  resemblance 
between  the  pair  which  would  have  been  extremely 
embarrassing  to  him  if  he  had  permitted  it  to  assume 
the  disagreeable  form  of  an  actual  fact.  It  was  the 
resemblance  between  the  influences  which  had  moved 
them.  In  both  cases  it  had  been  a  woman, — in  this 
case  it  was  his  own  wife,  and  if  he  had  not  been  too 
greatly  harassed  he  would  have  appreciated  the  indeli- 
cacy of  the  situation.  He  was  not  an  unrefined  person 
in  theory,  and  his  sensitiveness  would  have  caused  him 
to  revolt  at  the  grossness  of  such  a  position  if  he  had 
not  had  so  much  at  stake  and  been  so  overborne  by  his 
associates.  His  mistakes  and  vices  were  always  the 
result  of  circumstance  and  enthusiasm,  and  he  hurried 
past  them  with  averted  eyes,  and  refused  to  concede  to 
them  any  substantiality.  There  is  nothing  more  certain 
than  that  he  had  never  allowed  himself  to  believe  that 
he  had  found  Bertha  of  practical  use  in  rendering 
Planefield  docile  and  attracting  less  important  lumi- 
naries. Bertha  had  been  very  charming  and  amiable, 
that  was  all ;  she  was  always  so ;  it  was  her  habit  to 
please  people,  —  her  nature,  in  fact,  —  and  she  had 
only  done  what  she  always  did.  As  a  mental  statement 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  379 


of  the  case,  nothing  could  be  more  simple  than 
and  he  was  moved  to  private  disgust  by  his  companion's 
aggressive  clumsiness,  which  seemed  to  complicate 
matters  and  confront  him  with  more  crude  sugges- 
tions. 

"  I  am  afraid  she  would  not  enjoy  your  way  of  putting 
it,"  he  said. 

Planefield  shut  his  teeth  on  his  cigar  and  !ooked  out 
of  the  window.  That  was  his  sole  response,  and  was  a 
form  of  bullying  he  enjoyed. 

"  We  must  remember  that  —  that  she  does  not  realize 
everything,"  continued  Richard,  uneasily;  "and  she 
has  not  regarded  the  matter  from  any  serious  stand- 
point. It  is  my  impression,"  he  added,  with  a  sudden 
sense  of  glowing  irritation,  "that  she  wouldn't  have 
anything  to  do  with  it  if  she  thought  it  was  a  matter  of 
gain  or  loss  I  " 

Planefield  made  no  movement.  He  was  convinced 
that  this  was  a  lie,  and  his  look  out  of  the  window  was 
his  reply  to  it. 

Richard  put  his  hands  into  his  pockets  again  and 
turned  about,  irritated  and  helpless. 

"You  must  have  seen  yourself  how  unpractical  she 
is,"  he  exclaimed.  "  She  is  a  mere  child  in  business 
matters.  Any  one  could  deceive  her." 

He  stopped  and  flushed  without  any  apparent  reason. 
He  found  himself  looking  out  of  the  window  too,  with 
a  feeling  of  most  unpleasant  confusion.  He  was  obliged 
to  shake  it  off  before  he  spoke  again,  and  when  he  did 
so  it  was  with  an  air  of  beginning  with  a  fresh  subject. 

"After  all,"  he  said,  "everything  does  not  depend 
upon  influence  of  that  sort.  There  are  other  things  to 
be  considered.  Have  you  seen  Blundel  ?  " 

"  You  can't  expect  a  man  like  Blundel,"  said  Plane- 
field,  "to  be  easy  to  manage.  Blundel  is  the  possessor 
of  a  moral  character,  and  when  a  man  has  capital  like 
that  —  auu  Blundcl's  sharpness  into  the  bargain  —  he  is 
not  going  to  trifle  witk  it.  He's  going  to  hang  on  to  it 


|J80  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

until  it  reaches  its  highest  market  value,  and  then  decidi 
which  way  he  will  invest  it." 

Richard  dropped  into  a  seat  by  the  table.  He  felt 
his  forehead  growing  damp. 

w  But  if  we  are  not  sure  of  Blundel  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Well,  we  are  not  sure  of  Blundel,"  was  the  answer. 
1  What  we  have  to  hope  is  that  he  isn't  sure  of  himself. 
The  one  thing  you  can't  be  sure  of  is  a  moral  character. 
Impeccability  is  rare,  and  it  is  never  easy  for  an  outsider 
to  hit  on  its  exact  value.  It  varies,  and  you  have  to 
run  risks  with  it.  Blundel's  is  expensive." 

"  There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  money  used,"  hesi- 
tated Richard  ;  tf  a  great  deal." 

Planefield  resorted  to  the  window  again.  It  had  not 
been  his  money  that  had  been  used.  He  had  sufficient 
intellect  to  reap  advantages  where  they  were  to  be 
reaped,  and  to  avoid  indiscreet  adventures. 

"You  had  better  go  and  see  Blundel  yourself,"  he  said, 
after  a  pause.  "  I  have  had  a  talk  with  him,  and  made 
as  alluring  a  statement  of  the  case  as  I  could,  with  the 
proper  degree  of  caution,  and  he  has  had  time  to  put  the 
matter  in  the  scales  with  his  impeccability  and  see  which 
weighs  the  heavier,  and  if  they  can't  be  made  to  bal- 
ance. He  will  try  to  balance  them,  but  if  he  can't  — 
You  must  settle  what  is  to  be  done  between  you.  I 
have  done  my  best." 

"  By  Jove !  "  exclaimed  Richard,  virtuously,  "  what 
coi  ruption ! " 

It  was  an  ingenuous  ejaculation,  but  he  was  not  col- 
lected enough  to  appreciate  the  native  candor  of  it 
himself  at  the  moment.  He  felt  that  he  was  being 
hardly  treated,  and  that  the  most  sacred  trust?,  of  a 
great  nation  were  in  hands  likely  to  betray  them  at  far 
too  high  a  figure.  The  remark  amounted  to  an  out- 
hurst  of  patriotism. 

"  Have  they  all  their  price  ?  "  he  cried. 

Planefield  turned  his  head  slowly  and  glanced  at  him 
over  his  shoulder. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  381 

"No,"  he  said;  "if  they  had,  you'd  find  it  easier. 
There's  your  difficulty.  If  they  were  all  to  be  bought, 
or  none  of  them  were  to  be  sold,  you'd  see  your  way." 
It  did  not  seem  to  Richard  that  his  way  was  very 
clear  at  the  present  moment.  At  every  step  of  late  he 
had  found  new  obstacles  in  his  path  and  new  burdens 
ou  his  shoulders.  People  had  so  many  interests  and  so 
many  limitations,  and  the  limitations  were  always 
related  to  the  interests.  He  began  to  resolve  that  it 
was  a  very  sordid  and  business-like  world  in  which 
human  lot  was  cast,  and  to  realize  that  the  tendency  of 
humanity  was  to  coarse  prejudice  in  favor  of  itself. 

"Then  I  had  better  see  Blundel  at  once,"  he  said, 
with  feverish  impatience. 

"You  haven't  any  time  to  lose,"  was  Planefield's  cool 
response.  "And  you  will  need  all  the  wit  you  can 
carry  with  you.  You  are  not  going  to  offer  him  in- 
ducements, you  know ;  you  are  only  going  to  prove  to 
him  that  his  chance  to  do  something  for  his  country 
lies  before  him  in  the  direction  of  the  Westoria  lands 
After  that"  — 

"  After  that,"  repeated  Richard,  anxiously. 
"  Do  what  you  think  safest  and  most  practicable." 
As  the  well-appointed  equipage  drew  up  under  the 
archway  before  the  lower  entrance  to  the  north  wing 
of  the  Capitol,  a  group  of  men  who  stood   near  the 
door-way  regarded  it  with  interest.     They  did  so  be- 
cause three  of  them  were  strangers  and  sight-seers,  and 
the  fourth,  who  was  a  well-seasoned  Washingtonian, 
had  called  their  attention  to  it. 

"There,"  he  said,  with  an  experienced  air,  "there  is 
one  of  them  this  moment.  It  is  beginning  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  fact  that  he  is  mixed  up  with  one  of  the 
biggest  jobs  the  country  hag  ever  known.  He  is  up  to 
his  ears  in  this  Westoria  business,  it's  believed,  though 
he  professes  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  sort  of  inter- 
ested  looker-on  and  a  friend  of  the  prime  movers.  He*? 
a  ge^'leman,  you  see,  with  a  position  in  society,  and  a 


382  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

pretty  wife,  who  is  a  favorite,  and  the  pretty  wife  enter 
tains  his  friends ;  and  when  a  man  is  in  an  uncertain 
.frame  of  mind  the  husband  invites  him  to  dinner,  and 
/  the  pretty  wife  interests  herself  in  him,  —  she  knows 
how  to  do  it,  they  say,  —  and  he  goes  away  a  wiser  and 
a  better  man,  and  more  likely  to  see  his  way  to  making 
himself  agreeable.  Nothing  professional  about  it,  don't 
you  see?  All  quite  proper  and  natural.  No  lobbying 
about  that,  you  know ;  but  it  helps  a  bill  through 
wonderfully.  I  tell  you  there's  no  knowing  what  goe? 
on  in  these  tip-top  parlors  about  here." 

He  said  it  with  modest  pride  and  exultation,  and  his 
companions  were  delighted.  They  represented  the  aver- 
age American,  with  all  his  ingenuous  eagerness  for  the 
dramatic  exposure  of  crime  in  his  fellow-man.  They 
had  existed  joyously  for  years  in  the  belief  that  Wash- 
ington was  the  seat  of  corruption,  bribery,  and  fraud ; 
that  it  was  populated  chiefly  with  brilliant  female  lobby- 
ists and  depraved  officials,  who  carried  their  privileges 
to  market  and  bartered  and  sold  them  with  a  guileless 
candor,  whose  temerity  was  only  to  be  equalled  by  its 
brazen  cheerfulness  of  spirit.  They  were,  probably, 
not  in  the  least  aware  of  their  mental  attitude  toward 
their  nation's  government ;  but  they  revelled  in  it  none 
the  less,  and  would  have  felt  a  keen  pang  of  disappoint- 
ment if  they  had  been  suddenly  confronted  with  the  fact 
that  there  was  actually  an  element  of  most  unpicturesque 
honesty  in  the  House  and  a  flavor  of  shameless  impec- 
cability in  the  Senate.  They  had  heard  delightful 
stories  of  "jobs"  and  "schemes,"  and  had  hoped  to 
hear  more.  When  they  had  been  taken  to  the  visitors1 
gallery,  they  had  exhibited  an  earnest  anxiety  to  be 
shown  the  members  connected  with  the  last  investiga- 
tion, and  had  received  with  private  rapture  all  anecdotes 
connected  with  the  ruling  political  scandal.  They  de- 
cided that  the  country  was  in  a  bad  way,  and  felt  a  glow 
of  honest  pride  in  its  standing  up  at  all  in  its  present 
condition  of  rottenness.  Their  ardor  had  been  a  little 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  383 

dampened  by  an  incautious  statement  made  by  then 
friend  and  guide,  to  the  effect  that  the  subject  of  the 
investigation  seemed  likely  to  clear  himself  of  the 
charges  made  against  him,  and  the  appearance  of 
Richard  Arnory,  with  his  personal  attractions,  his  neat 
equipage,  and  his  air  of  belonging  to  the  great  world, 
was  something  of  a  boon  to  them.  They  wished  hia 
wife  had  been  with  him ;  they  had  only  seen  one  female 
lobbyist  as  yet,  and  she  had  been  merely  a  cheap,  flashy 
woman,  with  thin,  rouged  cheeks  and  sharp,  eager 
eyes. 

"Looks  rather  anxious,  doesn't  he?"  one  asked  the 
other,  as  Amory  went  by.  He  certainly  looked  anxious 
as  he  passed  them ;  but  once  inside  the  building  he  made 
an  effort  to  assume  something  of  his  usual  air  of  gay 
good  cheer.  It  would  not  do  to  present  himself  with 
other  than  a  fearless  front.  So  he  walked  with  a  firm 
and  buoyant  tread  through  the  great  vaulted  corridors 
and  up  the  marble  stairways,  exchanging  a  salutation 
with  one  passer-by  and  a  word  of  greeting  with  another. 

He  found  Senator  Blundel  in  his  committee-room, 
sitting  at  the  green-covered  table,  looking  over  some 
papers.  He  was  a  short,  stout  man,  with  a  blunt- 
featured  face,  grayish  hair,  which  had  a  tendency  to 
stand  on  end,  and  small,  shrewd  eyes.  When  he  had 
been  in  the  House,  his  rising  to  his  feet  had  generally 
been  the  signal  for  his  fellow-members  to  bestir  them- 
selves and  turn  to  listen,  as  it  was  his  habit  to  display  a 
sharp  humor,  of  a  rough-and-ready  sort.  Richard  had 
always  felt  this  humor  coarse,  and,  having  but  little  con- 
fidence in  BlundePs  possessing  any  other  qualification 
for  his  position,  regarded  it  as  rather  trying  that  cir- 
cumstances should  have  combined  to  render  his  senti- 
ments of  such  importance  in  the  present  crisis.  Look- 
ing at  the  thick-set  figure  and  ordinary  face  he  felt  that 
Planefield  had  been  right,  and  that  Bertha  might  have 
done  much  with  him,  principally  because  he  presented 
himself  as  cae  of  the  obstacles  whose  opinions  should 


384  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

be  formed  for  them  all  the  more  on  account  of  theii 
obstinacy  when  once  biassed  in  a  wrong  direction. 

But  there  was  no  suggestion  of  these  convictions  in 
his  manner  when  he  spoke.  It  was  very  graceful  and 
ready,  and  his  strong  points  of  good-breeding  and 
mental  agility  stood  him  in  good  stead.  The  man  before 
him,  whose  early  social  advantages  had  not  been  great, 
was  not  too  dull  to  feel  the  influence  of  the  first  quality, 
and  find  himself  placed  at  a  secretly  acknowledged 
disadvantage  by  it.  After  he  had  heard  his  name 
his  small,  sharp  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  his  visitor's 
handsome  countenance,  with  an  expression  not  easy  to 
read. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  make  a  new  statement 
of  our  case,"  said  Kichard,  easily.  "  I  won't  fatigue  you 
and  occupy  your  time  by  repeating  what  you  have 
already  heard  stated  in  the  clearest  possible  manner  by 
Senator  Planefield." 

Blundel  thrust  his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  nodded. 

"  Yes,"  he  responded.  te  I  saw  Planefield,  and  he  said 
a  good  deal  about  it." 

"Which,  of  course,  you  have  reflected  upon?"  said 
Richard. 

"  Well,  yes.  I've  thought  it  over  —  along  with  other 
things." 

"I  trust  favorably,"  Richard  suggested. 

Blundel  stretched  his  legs  a  little  and  pushed  hia 
hands  further  down  into  his  pockets. 

"Now,  what  would  you  call  favorably?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh."  replied  Richard,  with  a  self-possessed  prompt- 
ness, "favorably  to  the  connecting  branch." 

It  \vas  rather  a  fine  stroke,  this  airy  candor,  but  he 
had  studied  it  beforehand  thoroughly  and  calculated  its 
effect.  It  surprised  Blundel  into  looking  up  at  him 
quickly. 

"  You  would,  eh? "  he  said ;  " let  us  hear  why." 

*  Because,"  Richard  stated,  "that  would  make  it 
favorable  to  us." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  38$ 

Blundel  was  beguiled  into  a  somewhat  uneasy  laugh, 
"Well,"  he  remarked,  "you're  frank  enough." 
Kichard  fixed  upon  him  an  open,  appreciative  glance, 
"  And  why  not  ?  "  he  answered.  "  There  is  our  strong 
point,  —  that  we  can  afford  to  be  frank.  We  have 
nothing  to  conceal.  We  have  something  to  gain,  of 
course  —  who  has  not  ?  —  but  it  is  to  be  gained  legiti 
mately  —  so  there  is  no  necessity  for  our  concealing 
that.  The  case1  is  simplicity  itself.  Here  are  the  two 
railroads.  See, "-^-  and  he  laid  two  strips  of  paper  side 
by  side  upon  the  table.  "A  connecting  branch  is 
needed.  If  it  runs  through  this  way,"  making  a  line 
with  his  finger,  "it  makes  certain  valuable  lands  im- 
measurably more  valuable.  There  is  no  practical  objec- 
tion to  its  taking  this  direction  instead  of  that,  —  in 
either  case  it  runs  through  the  government  reserva- 
tions,—  the  road  will  be  built;  somebody's  property 
will  be  benefited,  —  why  not  that  of  my  clients  ? " 

Blundel  looked  at  the  strips  of  paper,  and  his  little 
eyes  twinkled  mysteriously. 

wBy  George!"  he   said,  "that  isn't  the   way   such 
things  are  generally  put.     What  you  ought  to  do  is  to 
prove  that  nobody  is  to  be  benefited,  and  that  you  are 
working  for  the  good  of  the  government." 
Kichard  laughed. 

"Oh,"  he  said,  "I  am  an  amateur,  and  I  should  be 
of  no  use  whatever  to  my  clients  if  they  had  anything 
to  hide  or  any  special  reason  to  fear  failure.  We  have 
opposition  to  contend  with,  of  course.  The  southern 
line  is  naturally  against  us,  as  it  wants  the  connecting 
branch  to  run  in  the  opposite  direction ;  but,  if  it  has  no 
stronger  claim  than  we  have,  the  struggle  is  equal. 
They  are  open  to  the  objection  of  being  benefited  by 
the  subsidies,  too.  It  is  scarcely  ground  enough  for 
refusing  your  vote,  that  some  one  will  be  benefited 
by  it.  The  people  is  the  government  in  America,  and 
the  government  the  people,  and  the  interest  of  both  are 
too  indissolubly  connected  to  admit  of  being  easily 


386  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION 

separated  on  public  measures.  As  I  said,  I  am  an 
amateur,  but  I  am  a  man  of  the  world.  My  basis  is  a 
natural,  human  one.  I  desire  to  attain  an  object,  and, 
though  the  government  will  be  benefited,  I  am  obliged 
so  confess  I  am  arguing  for  my  object  more  than  for  the 
government." 

This  was  said  with  more  delightful,  airy  frankness 
than  ever.  But  concealed  beneath  this  genial  openness 
was  a  desperate  anxiety  to  discover  what  his  companion 
was  thinking  of,  and  if  the  effect  of  his  stroke  was  what 
he  had  hoped  it  would  be.  He  knew  ttfat  frankness  so 
complete  was  a  novelty,  and  he  trusted  ihat  his  bearing 
had  placed  him  out  of  the  list  of  ordinary  applicants 
for  favor.  His  private  conviction,  to  which  he  did  not 
choose  to  allow  himself  to  refer  mentally  with  any 
degree  of  openness,  was  that,  if  the  man  was  honest, 
honesty  so  bold  and  simple  must  disarm  him ;  and,  if 
he  was  not,  ingenuousness  so  reckless  must  offer  him 
inducements.  But  it  was  not  easy  to  arrive  at  once  at 
any  decision  as  to  the  tenor  of  Blundel's  thoughts.  Ho 
had  listened,  and  it  being  his  habit  to  see  the  humor  of 
things,  he  had  grinned  a  little  at  the  humor  he  saw  in 
this  situation,  which  was  perhaps  not  a  bad  omen, 
though  he  showed  no  disposition  to  commit  himself  on 
the  spot. 

" Makes  a  good  story,"  he  said ;  "pretty  big  scheme, 
isn't  it?" 

"Not  a  small  one,"  answered  Richard,  freely.  "That 
is  one  of  its  merits." 

"  The  subsidies  won't  have  to  be  small  ones,"  said 
Blundel.  "That  isn't  one  of  its  merits.  Now,  let  us 
hear  your  inducements." 

Richard  checked  himself  on  the  very  verge  of  a  start, 
realizing  instantaneously  the  folly  of  his  first  flashing 
thought. 

"  The  inducements  you  can  offer  to  the  government," 
added  Blundel.  "You  haven't  gone  into  a  thing  of  thi« 
port  without  feeling  you  have  some  on  hand." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  387 

Of  course  there  were  inducements,  and  Richard  had 
them  at  his  fingers'  ends,  and  was  very  fluent  and 
eloquent  in  his  statement  of  them.  In  fact,  when  once 
fairly  launched  upon  the  subject,  he  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised to  find  how  many  powerful  reasons  there  were 
for  its  being  to  the  interest  of  the  nation  that  the  land 
giants  should  be  made  to  the  road  which  ran  through 
the  Westoria  lands  and  opened  up  their  resources.  His 
argument  became  so  brilliant,  as  he  proceeded,  that  he 
was  moved  by  their  sincerity  himself,  and  gained 
impetus  through  his  confidence  in  them.  He  really 
felt  that  he  was  swayed  by  a  generous  desire  to  benefit 
his  country,  and  enjoyed  his  conviction  of  his  own 
honesty  with  a  refinement  which,  for  the  moment,  lost 
sight  of  all  less  agreeable  features  of  the  proceeding. 
All  his  fine  points  came  out  under  the  glow  of  his 
enthusiasm, — his  grace  of  speech  and  manner;  his 
picturesque  habit  of  thought,  which  gave  color  and 
vividness  to  all  he  said,  —  his  personal  attractiveness 
itself. 

Blundel  bestirred  himself  to  sit  up  and  look  at  him 
with  renewed  interest.  He  liked  a  good  talker ;  he  was 
a  good  talker  himself.  His  mind  was  of  a  practical  busi- 
ness stamp,  and  he  was  good  at  a  knock-down  blow  in 
argument,  or  at  a  joke  or  jibe  which  felled  a  man  like  a 
meat-axe;  but  he  had  nothing  like  this,  and  he  felt 
something  like  envy  of  all  this  swiftness  and  readiness 
and  polish. 

When  he  finished,  Richard  felt  that  he  must  have  im- 
pressed him ;  that  it  was  impossible  that  it  should  be 
otherwise,  even  though  there  were  no  special  external 
signs  of  Blundel  being  greatly  afiected.  He  had  thrust 
his  hands  into  his  pockets  as  before,  and  his  hair  stood 
on  end  as  obstinately. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  succinctly,  "it  is  a  good  story,  and  it's 
a  big  scheme/' 

"And  you?"  —  said  Richaid.  "We  are  sure  of 
your "  — 


388  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Blundel  took  JL  hand  out  of  his  pocket  and  ran  it  o^  ei 
his  upright  hail ,  as  if  in  a  futile  attempt  at  sweeping  it 
down. 

^ "  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  said.     "  I'll  e ee  you  day 
kfter  to-morrow." 

"But"  —  exclaimed  Richard,  secretly  aghast. 

Blundel  ran  over  his  hair  again  and  returned  his  hand 
to  his  pocket. 

w  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  I  know  all  about  that. 
You  don't  want  to  lose  time,  and  you  want  to  feel 
sure ;  but,  you  see,  I  want  to  feel  sure,  too.  As  I  said, 
it's  a  big  business  ;  it's  too  big  a  business  to  assume  the 
responsibility  of  all  at  once.  Pm  not  going  to  run  any 
risks.  I  don't  say  you  want  me  to  run  any ;  but,  you 
know,  you  are  an  amateur,  and  there  may  be  risks  you 
don't  realize.  I'll  see  you  again." 

In  his  character  of  amateur  it  was  impossible  for 
Richard  to  be  importunate,  but  his  temptations  to  com- 
mit the  indiscretion  were  strong.  A  hundred  things 
might  happen  in  the  course  of  two  days ;  delay  was 
more  dangerous  than  anything  else.  The  worst  of  it 
all  was  that  he  had  really  gained  no  reliable  knowledge 
of  the  man  himself  and  how  it  would  be  best  to  ap- 
proach him.  He  had  seen  him  throughout  the  inter- 
view just  as  he  had  seen  him  before  it.  Whether  or 
not  his  sharpness  was  cunning  and  his  bluntness  a  de- 
fence he  had  not  been  able  to  decide. 

"At  any  rate,  he  is  cautious,"  he  thought.  "How 
cautious  it  is  for  us  to  find  out." 

When  he  left  him  Richard  was  in  a  fever  of  disap- 
pointment and  perplexity,  which,  to  his  ease  and  pleas- 
ure-loving nature,  was  torment. 

"  Confound  it  all ! "  he  said.  "  Confound  the  thing 
from  beginning  to  end  !  It  will  have  to  pay  well  to  pay 
for  this." 

He  had  other  work  before  him,  other  efforts  to  make, 
and  after  he  had  made  them  he  returned  to  his  carriage 
iatigued  and  overwrought.  He  had  walked  through 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION,  388 

the  great  corridors,  from  wing  to  wing,  in  pursuit  of 
men  who  seemed  to  elude  him  like  will-o'-the-wisps ; 
he  had  been  driven  to  standing  among  motley  groups, 
who  sent  in  cards  which  did  not  always  intercede  for 
them ;  he  had  had  interviews  with  men  who  were  out- 
wardly suave  and  pliable,  with  men  who  were  ill-man- 
nered and  impatient,  with  men  who  were  obstinate  and 
distrustful,  and  with  men  who  were  too  much  occupied 
with  their  own  affairs  to  be  other  than  openly  indiffer- 
ent; if  he  had  met  with  a  shade  of  encouragement  at 
one  point,  he  had  found  it  amply  balanced  by  discourage- 
ment at  the  next ;  he  had  seen  himself  regarded  as  an 
applicant  for  favor,  and  a  person  to  be  disposed  of  as 
speedily  as  possible,  and,  when  his  work  was  at  an  end, 
his  physical  condition  was  one  of  exhaustion,  and  his 
mental  attitude  marked  chiefly  by  disgust  and  weariness 
of  spirit. 

This  being  the  state  of  affairs  he  made  a  call  upon 
Miss  Varien,  who  always  exhilarated  and  entertained 
him. 

He  found  her  in  her  bower,  and  was  received  with 
the  unvarying  tact  which  characterized  her  manner  upon 
all  occasions.  He  poured  forth  his  woes,  as  far  as  they 
could  be  told,  and  was  very  picturesque  about  them  as 
he  reclined  in  the  easiest  of  easy-chairs. 

w  It  is  my  opinion  that  nothing  can  be  done  without 
money,"  he  said,  "  which  is  disgraceful !  " 

"It  is,  indeed,"  acknowledged  Miss  Varien,  with  a 
gleam  of  beautiful  little  teeth. 

She  had  lived  in  Washington  with  her  exceptional 
father  and  entirely  satisfactory  mother  from  her  earliest 
infancy,  and  had  gained  from  observation  —  at  which 
which  she  was  brilliant,  as  at  all  else  —  a  fund  oi  valu- 
able information.  She  had  seen  many  things,  and  had 
not  seen  them  in  vain.  It  may  be  even  suspected  that 
Richard,  in  his  character  of  amateur,  was  aware  of  this. 
There  was  a  suggestion  of  watchfulness  in  his  glance 
at  her. 


390  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

w  Things  ought  to  be  better  or  worse  to  simplify  the 
system,"  she  said. 

"That  is  in  effect  what  I  heard  said  this  morning," 
answered  Richard. 

"  I  am  sorry  it  is  not  entirely  new,"  she  returned. 
*  Was  it  suggested,  also,  that  since  we  cannot  have  in- 
corruptibility we  might  alter  our  moral  standards  and 
remove  corruption  by  making  all  transactions  mere 
matters  of  business  ?  If  there  was  no  longer  any  pen- 
alty attached  to  the  sale  and  barter  of  public  privileges, 
such  sale  and  barter  would  cease  to  be  dishonor  and 
crime.  We  should  be  better  if  we  were  infinitely 
worse.  The  theory  may  appear  bold  at  first  blush,  — 
no,  not  at  first  blush,  for  blushes  are  to  be  done  away 
with, — at  first  sight,  I  will  say  in  preference;  it  ma;y 
appear  bold,  but  after  much  reflection  I  have  decided 
that  it  is  the  only  practicable  one." 

"  It  is  undoubtedly  brilliant,"  replied  Richard  ;  "  but, 
as  you  say,  it  would  simplify  matters  wonderfully.  I 
should  not  be  at  such  a  loss  to  know  what  Senator 
Blundel  will  do,  for  instance,  and  my  appetite  for 
luncheon  would  be  better." 

"  It  might  possibly  be  worse,"  suggested  Miss  Va« 
rien. 

Richard  glanced  at  her  quickly. 

"  That  is  a  remark  which  evidently  has  a  foundation," 
he  said.  "  I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  prompted 
it." 

"  I  am  not  sure  it  was  very  discreet,"  was  the  reply. 
*f  My  personal  knowledge  of  Senator  Blundel  prompted 
it." 

"You  know  him  very  well,"  said  Richard,  with  some 
eagerness. 

"  I  should  not  venture  to  say  I  knew  any  one  very 
well,"  she  said,  in  the  captivating  voice  which  gave  to 
all  her  words  such  value  and  suggestiveness.  "I  know 
him  as  I  know  many  other  men  like  him  I  was  boro 
it  politician,  and  existence  without  my  politics  would 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  391 

be  an  arid  desert  to  me.  I  have  talked  to  him  and 
read  his  speeches,  and  followed  him  in  his  career  fci 
some  time.  I  have  even  asked  questions  about  him, 
and,  consequently,  I  know  something  of  his  methods. 
I  think  —  you  see,  I  only  say  I  think  —  I  know  what 
he  will  do." 

'"In  Heaven's  name,  what  is  it?"  demanded  Richard 

She  unfurled  her  fan  and  smiled  over  it  with  the  de* 
lightful  gleam  of  little  white  teeth. 

"He  will  take  his  time,"  she  answered.  "He  is 
slow,  and  prides  himself  on  being  sure.  Your  bill  will 
not  be  acted  upon ;  it  will  be  set  aside  to  lie  over  until 
the  next  session  of  Congress." 

Richard  felt  as  if  he  changed  color,  but  he  bore  him- 
self with  outward  discretion. 

"You  have  some  ulterior  motive,"  he  said.  "Having 
invited  me  to  remain  to  luncheon,  you  seek  to  render 
me  incapable  of  doing  myself  justice.  You  saw  in  nry 
eye  the  wolfish  hunger  which  is  the  result  of  interviews 
with  the  savage  senator  and  the  pitiless  member  of 
Congress.  Now  I  see  the  value  of  your  theory.  If  it 
were  in  practice,  I  could  win  Blundel  over  with  gold. 
What  is  your  opinion  of  his  conscience  as  it  stands  ?  " 

It  was  said  with  admirable  lightness  and  answered  in 
a  like  strain,  but  he  had  never  been  more  anxiously  on 
the  alert  than  he  was  as  he  watched  Miss  Varien's  viva- 
cious and  subtly  expressive  face. 

"  I  have  not  reached  it  yet,"  she  said.  "  And  con- 
sciences are  of  such  different  make  and  material ;  I  have 
not  decided  whether  his  is  made  of  interest  or  honesty. 
He  is  a  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  crudeness  which  is 
very  baffling ;  just  when  you  are  arguing  from  the 
shrewdness  the  crudeness  displays  itself,  and  vice  versa. 
But,  as  I  said,  I  think  your  bill  will  not  be  acted  upon." 

And  then  they  went  into  luncheon,  and,  as  he  ate 
his  lobster-salad  and  made  himself  agreeable  beyond 
measure,  Richard  wondered,  with  an  inward  tremor 
if  she  could  be  right. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MRS.  SYITVESTRE  did  not  leave  town  early.  Tnt 
weather  was  reasonably  cool,  the  house  on  Lafayette 
Square  was  comfortable,  and  Washington  in  spring  is  at 
its  loveliest.  She  liked  the  lull  after  the  season,  and 
enjoyed  it  to  its  utmost,  wisely  refusing  all  invitations 
to  fitful  after-Lent  gayeties.  She  held  no  more  recep- 
tions, but  saw  her  more  intimate  acquaintances  in  the 
evening,  when  they  made  their  informal  calls.  With 
each  week  that  passed,  her  home  gave  her  greater  pleas- 
ure and  grew  prettier. 

"I  never  lose  interest  in  it,"  she  said  to  Arbuthnot. 
''  It  is  a  continued  delight  to  me.  I  find  that  I  think  of 
it  a  great  deal,  and  am  fond  of  it  almost  as  if  it  was  a 
friend  I  had  found.  I  think  I  must  have  been  intended 
for  a  housewife." 

Mrs.  Merriam's  liking  for  Laurence  Arbuthnot  hav- 
ing increased  as  their  acquaintance  progressed,  his  in- 
timacy in  the  household  became  more  and  more  an 
established  fact. 

"  One  should  always  number  among  one's  acquaint-, 
ance,"  the  clever  dowager  remarked,  "an  agreeable, 
well-bred,  and  reliable  man-friend,  — a  man  one  can  ask 
to  do  things,  if  unforeseen  occasions  arise.  He  must 
b«  agieeable,  since  one  must  be  intimate  with  him,  and 
ror  the  same  reason  he  must  be  well-bred  Notwith- 
standing our  large  circle,  we  are  a  rather  lonely  pair, 
my  dear." 

Gradually  Mrs.  Sylvestre  herself  had  found  a  slight 
change  taking  place  in  her  manner  toward  Arbuthnot. 
She  became  conscious  of  liking  him  better,  and  of  giving 
him  more  mental  attention,  as  she  saw  him  more  famil- 
iarly. The  idea  dawned  by  slow  degrees  upon  her  thai 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  393 

the  triviality  of  which  she  accused  him  was  of  an  un- 
usual order ;  that  it  was  accompanied  by  qualities  and 
peculiarities  which  did  not  seem  to  belong  to  it.  She 
had  discovered  that  he  could  deny  himself  pleasures  he 
desired  ;  that  he  was  secretly  thoughtful  for  others  ;  that 
he  was  —  also  secretly  —  determined,  and  that  he  had 
his  serious  moments,  however  persistently  he  endeav- 
ored to  conceal  them.  Perhaps  the  professor  had  given 
her  more  information  concerning  him  than  she  could 
have  gained  by  observation  in  any  comparatively  short 
space  of  time.  "  This  frivolous  fellow,"  he  said  to  her 
one  night,  laying  an  affectionate  hand  on  Arbuthnot's 
arm,  as  they  were  on  the  point  of  leaving  the  house 
together,  after  having  spent  the  evening  there, — "  this 
frivolous  fellow  is  the  friend  of  my  old  age.  I  wonder 
why." 

w  So  do  I,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "  I  assure  you  that  you 
could  not  find  a  reason,  professor." 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  reason,"  returned  the  professor, 
"though  it  is  scarcely  worthy  of  the  name.  This  frivo- 
lous fellow  is  not  such  a  trifler  as  he  seems,  and  it  inter- 
ests me  to  see  his  seriousness  continually  getting  the 
better  of  him  when  he  fancies  he  has  got  it  under  and 
trodden  it  under  his  feet." 

Arbuthnot  laughed  again, — the  full,  careless  laugh 
which  was  so  excellent  an  answer  to  everything. 

"  He  maligns  me,  this  dissector  of  the  emotions,"  he 
said.  "  He  desires  artfully  to  give  you  the  impression 
that  I  am  not  serious  by  nature.  I  am,  in  fact,  serious- 
ness itself.  It  is  the  wicked  world  which  gets  the  bet- 
ter of  me." 

Which  statement  Mrs.  Sylvestre  might  have  chosen 
to  place  some  re/iance  in  as  being  a  plausible  one,  if  she 
had  not  seen  the  professor  at  other  times,  when  he 
spoke  of  this  friendship  of  his.  It  was  certainly  a  warm 
one,  and  then,  feeling  that  there  must  be  reason  for  it, 
she  began  to  see  these  reasons  for  herself,  and  appre- 
ciate something  of  their  significance  and  value. 


394  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

The  change  which  finally  levealed  itself  in  hor 
ner  was  so  subtle  in  its  character  that  Arbuthnot  him. 
self  could  not  be  sure  when  he  had  first  felt  it ;  some- 
times he  fancied  it  had  been  at  one  time,  and  again  at 
another,  and  even  now  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  ex- 
plain to  himself  why  he  knew  that  they  were  better 
friends. 

But  there  was  an  incident  in  their  acquaintance  which 
he  always  remembered  as  a  landmark. 

This  incident  occurred  at  the  close  of  the  season. 
One  bright  moonlight  night,  having  a  fancy  for  making 
a  call  upon  Bertha,  who  was  not  well  enough  to  go  out 
for  several  days,  Mrs.  Sylvestre  made  the  visit  on  foot, 
accompanied  by  her  maid.  The  night  was  so  pleasant 
that  they  were  walking  rather  slowly  under  the  trees 
near  Lafayette  Park,  when  their  attention  was  attracted 
by  the  sound  of  suppressed  sobbing,  which  came  from 
one  of  two  figures  standing  in  the  shadow,  near  the  rail- 
ings, a  few  yards  ahead  of  them.  The  figures  were 
those  of  a  man  and  a  young  woman ,  and  the  instant  she 
saw  the  man,  who  was  well  dressed,  Agnes  Sylvestre 
felt  her  heart  leap  in  her  side,  for  she  recognized  Lau- 
rence Arbuthnot.  He  stood  quite  near  the  woman,  and 
seemed  trying  to  console  or  control  her,  while  she  — 
less  a  woman  than  a  girl,  and  revealing  in  her  childish 
face  and  figure  all  that  is  most  pathetic  in  youth  and 
helplessness  —  wept  and  wrung  her  hands. 

"  You  must  be  quiet  and  have  more  confidence  in  "  — 
Agnes  heard  Arbuthnot  say ;  and  then,  prompted  by 
some  desperate  desire  to  hear  no  more,  and  to  avoid 
being  seen,  she  spoke  to  her  maid. 

"Marie,"  she  said,  "we  will  cross  the  street." 

But  when  they  had  crossed  the  street  some  chill  in 
the  night  air  seemed  to  have  struck  her,  and  she  began 
to  shiver  so  that  Marie  looked  at  her  in  some  affright. 

"Madfime  is  cold,"  she  said.  "Is  it  possible  thai 
madame  has  a  chill  ?  " 

"I  aru  afraid  so,"  her  mistress  replied,  turning  abrul 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  395 

hurriedly.     "I  will  not  make  the  visit.     I  will  return 
home." 

A  few  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Merriam,  who  had  settled 
ber  small  figure  comfortably  in  a  large  arm-chair  by  the 
fire,  and  prepared  to  spend  the  rest  of  the  evening  with 
a  new  book,  looked  up  from  its  first  chapter  in  amaze- 
ment, as  her  niece  entered  the  room. 

"Agues!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  has  happened! 
Are  you  ill?  Why,  child  1  you  are  as  white  as  a  lily." 

It  was  true  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  fair  face  had  lost 
all  trace  of  its  always  delicate  color,  and  that  her  hands 
trembled  as  she  drew  off  her  gloves. 

"I  began  —  suddenly — to  feel  so  cold,"  she  said, 
"  that  I  thought  it  better  to  come  back." 

Mrs.  Merriam  rose  anxiously. 

"  I  hope  it  is  not  malaria,  after  all,"  she  said.  "  I 
shall  begin  to  think  the  place  is  as  bad  as  Rome.  You 
must  have  some  hot  wine." 

"  Send  it  upstairs,  if  you  please,"  said  Agnes.  "I  am 
going  to  my  room ;  there  is  a  large  fire  there." 

And  she  went  out  as  suddenly  as  she  had  appeared. 

"  I  really  believe  she  does  not  wish  me  to  follow 
her,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam  to  herself. 

"  Is  this  malaria  ?  "  And  having  pondered  upon  this 
question,  while  she  gave  orders  that  the  wine  should  be 
heated,  she  returned  to  her  book  after  doing  it,  with  the 
decision,  "No,  it  is  not." 

Agnes  drank  very  little  of  the  wine  when  it  was 
Brought.  She  sat  by  the  fire  in  her  room  and  did  not 
regain  her  color.  The  cold  which  had  struck  her  had 
struck  very  deep ;  she  felt  as  if  she  could  not  soon  get 
warm  again.  Her  eyes  had  a  stern  look  as  they  rested 
on  the  fire  ;  her  delicate  mouth  was  set  into  a  curve  of 
aopeless,  bitter  scorn  ;  the  quiet  which  settled  upon  her 
was  even  a  little  terrible,  in  some  mysterious  way.  She 
heard  a  ring  at  the  door-bell,  but  did  not  move,  though 
she  knew  a  caller  was  allowed  to  go  to  Mrs.  Merriam. 
She  was  not  in  a  mood  to  see  callers ;  she  could  see  no- 


396  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

body  ;  she  wished  to  be  left  alone ;  but,  in  about  hall 
an  hour,  a  servant  came  into  her  room. 

"Mr.  Arbuthnot  is  downstairs,  and  Mrs.  Merriam 
*?J3hes  to  know  if  Mrs.  Sylvestre  is  better." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  hesitated  a  second  before  she  replied. 

*  Say  to  2  Irs.  Merriam  that  I  am  better,  and  will  join 
hzr." 

She  was  as  white  as  ever  when  she  rose,  even  a  shade 
whiter,  and  she  felt  like  marble,  though  she  no  longer 
trembled. 

"  I  will  go  down,"  she  said,  mechanically.  "  Yes,  I 
will  go  down." 

What  she  meant  to  say  or  do  when  she  entered  the 
room  below  perhaps  she  had  not  clearly  decided  herself. 
As  she  came  in,  and  Arbuthnot  rose  to  receive  her,  he 
felt  a  startled  thrill  of  apprehension  and  surprise. 

"I  am  afraid  you  are  not  really  better,"  he  said. 
"  Perhaps  I  should  not  have  asked  to  be  allowed  to  see 
you." 

He  had  suddenly  an  absurd  feeling  that  there  was 
such  distance  between  them  —  that  something  inexpli- 
cable had  set  them  so  far  apart  —  that  it  might  almost  be 
necessary  to  raise  his  voice  to  make  her  hear  him. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  I  was  not  really  ill," 
and  passed  the  chair  he  offered  her,  as  if  not  seeing  it, 
taking  another  one  which  placed  the  table  between  them. 

Arbuthnot  gave  her  a  steady  glance  and  sat  down 
himself.  Resolving  in  a  moment's  time  that  something 
incomprehensible  had  happened,  he  gathered  himself  to- 
gether with  another  resolve,  which  did  equal  credit  to 
his  intelligence  and  presence  of  mind.  This  resolution 
was  that  he  would  not  permit  himself  to  be  overborne 
by  the  mystery  until  he  understood  what  it  was,  and 
that  he  would  understand  what  it  was  before  he  left  the 
house,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible.  He  had  the  cool- 
ness and  courage  to  refuse  to  be  misunderstood. 

"I  should  not  have  hoped  to  see  you,"  he  said,  in  p 
quiet,  level  tone,  still  watching  her,  *'  but  Mrs.  Merriaip 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  39? 

was  so  kind  as  to  think  you  would  be  interested  in 
something  I  came  to  tell  her." 

"  Of  course  she  will  be  interested,"  said  Mrs.  Mer- 
riam.  "  Such  a  story  would  interest  any  woman.  Tell 
it  to  her  at  once." 

"I  wish  you  would  do  it  for  me,"  said  Arbuthnot, 
with  a  rather  reluctant  accession  of  gravity.  "It  is 
really  out  of  my  line.  You  will  make  it  touching  — 
women  see  things  so  differently.  I'll  confess  to  you 
that  I  only  see  the  miserable,  sordid,  forlorn  side  of  it, 
and  don't  know  what  to  do  with  the  pathos.  When  that 
poor,  little  wretch  cried  at  m\3  and  wrung  her  hands  I 
had  not  the  remotest  idea  what  I  ought  to  say  to  stop 
her  —  and  Heaven  knows  Iwtmted  her  to  stop.  I  could 
only  make  the  mistaken  remar(:  that  she  must  have  con- 
fidence in  me,  and  I  would  do  wv  best  for  the  childish, 
irresponsible  pair  of  them,  though  why  they  should 
have  confidence  in  me  I  can  onhr  say  f  Heaven  knows,' 
again." 

After  she  had  seated  herself  Agv^s  had  lightly  rested 
her  head  upon  her  hand,  as  if  to  s'^ide  her  eyes  some- 
what. When  Arbuthnot  began  to  sp'-f-k  she  had  stirred, 
dropping  her  hand  a  moment  later  apd  leaning  forward  ; 
at  this  juncture  she  rose  from  her  cha:r.  and  came  for- 
ward with  a  swift,  unconscious-looking  T^ovement.  She 
stood  up  before  Arbuthnot,  and  spoke  to  him. 

"  I  wish  to  hear  the  story  very  much,''  ^he  said,  with 
a  thrill  of  appeal  in  her  sweet  voice.  f<  .1  wish  you  to 
tell  it  to  me.  You  will  tell  it  as —  a>  we  should 
hear  it." 

Nothing  but  a  prolonged  and  severe  cour™  of  train- 
ing could  have  enabled  Arbuthnot  to  preswo  at  this 
moment  his  outward  composure.  Indeed,  he  wn$  by  no 
means  sure  that  it  was  preserved  intact ;  he  wn  afraid 
that  his  blond  countenance  flushed  a  little,  and  tfot  hie 
eyes  were  not  entirely  steady.  He  felt  it  necess«ry  to 
assume  a  lightness  of  demeanor  entirely  oi.t  of 
with  his  mental  condition. 


398  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"1  appreciate  your  confidence  in  me,"  he  answered, 
"  all  the  more  because  I  feel  my  entire  inadequacy  to 
the  situation.  The  person  who  could  tell  it  as  you 
ought  to  hear  it  is  the  young  woman  who  waylaid  mo 
with  tears  near  Lafayette  Park  about  half  an  hour  ago. 
She  is  a  very  young  woman,  in  fact,  an  infant,  who  is 
legally  united  in  marriage  to  another  infant,  who  has 
been  in  the  employ  of  the  government,  in  the  building 
I  adorn  with  my  presence.  Why  they  felt  it  incumbent 
upon  themselves  to  marry  on  an  income  of  seventy-five 
dollars  a  month  they  do  not  explain  in  any  manner  at  all 
satisfactory  to  the  worldly  mind.  They  did  so,  how- 
ever, and  lived  togetner  for  several  months  in  what  is 
described  as  a  state  of  bliss.  They  had  two  small 
rooms,  and  the  female  infant  wore  calico  gowns,  and 
did  her  own  ridiculous,  sordid,  inferior  housework,  and 
rejoiced  in  the  society  of  the  male  infant  when  a  grateful 
nation  released  him  from  his  daily  labors." 

Agnes   quietly  slipped   into   the  chair  he   had  first 
placed  for  her.     She  did  it  with  a  gentle,  yielding  move- 
ment, to  which  he  was  so  little  blind  that  he  paused  a 
second  and  looked  at  the  fire,  and  made  a  point  of  re 
suming  his  story  with  a  lighter  air  than  before. 

"They  could  not  have  been  either  happy  or  content 
under  such  absurd  circumstances,"  he  said;  "but  they 
thought  they  were.  I  used  to  see  the  male  infant  beam- 
ing over  his  labors  in  a  manner  to  infuriate  you.  His  wife 
used  to  come  down  to  bear  him  from  the  office  to  the  two 
rooms  in  a  sort  of  triumphal  procession.  She  had  round 
eyes  and  dimples  in  her  cheeks,  and  a  little,  round  head 
with  curls.  Her  husband,  whose  tastes  were  simple, 
re^rded  her  as  a  beauty,  and  was  given  to  confiding 
his  Dpinion  of  her  to  his  fellow-clerks.  There  was 
no  objection  to  him  but  his  youth  and  innocence.  I  am 
told  he  worked  with  undue  enthusiasm  in  the  hope  of 
keeping  his  position,  or  even  getting  a  better  one,  and 
had  guileless,  frenzied  dreams  of  being  able,  in  th« 
course  of  the  ensuing  century,  to  purchase  a  small  IK  use 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  399 

'on  time.'  I  don't  ask  you  to  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  the  pair  actually  had  such  a  house  in  their 
imbecile  young  minds,  and  had  saved  out  of  their  star- 
vation income  a  few  dollars  toward  making  their  first 
payment  on  it.  I  didn't  believe  the  man  who  told  me, 
and  I  assure  you  he  is  a  far  more  reliable  fellow  than 
I  am." 

He  paused  a  second  more.  Was  it  possible  that  he 
found  himself  obliged  to  do  so  ? 

"They  said,"  he  added,  "they  said  they  '  wanted  a 
home/" 

He  heard  a  soft,  little  sound  at  his  side,  —  a  soft, 
emotional  little  sound.  It  came  from  Mrs.  Sylvestre. 
She  sat  with  her  slender  hands  clasped  upon  her  knee, 
and,  as  the  little  sound  broke  from  her  lips,  she  clasped 
them  more  closely. 

"Ah!"  she  said.     "Ah!  poor  children!" 

Arbuthnot  went  on. 

"  Ought  I  to  blush  to  admit  that  I  watched  these  two 
young  candidates  for  Saint  Elizabeth,  and  the  poor- 
house,  with  interest?  They  assisted  me  to  beguile 
away  some  weary  hours  in  speculation.  I  wondered 
when  they  would  begin  to  be  tired  of  each  other ;  when 
they  would  find  out  their  mistake,  and  loathe  the  paltri- 
ness of  their  surroundings ;  when  the  female  infant 
would  discover  that  her  dimples  might  have  been  better 
invested,  and  that  calico  gowns  were  unworthy  of  her 
charms?  I  do  blush  to  confess  that  I  scraped  an 
acquaintance  with  the  male  infant,  with  a  view  to 
drawing  forth  his  views  on  matrimony  and  life  as  a 
nrhole.  He  had  been  wont  to  smoke  inferior  cigarettes 
in  the  days  of  his  gay  and  untrammelled  bachelorhood, 
but  had  given  up  the  luxurious  habit  on  engaging  him- 
self to  the  object  of  his  affections.  He  remarked  to  me 
that  fa  man  ought  to  have  principle  enough  to  deny 
himself  things  when  he  had  something  to  deny  himself 
for,  and  when  a  man  had  a  wife  and  a  home  he  had 
something  to  deny  himself  frr,  and  if  he  was  a  man 


400  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

he'd  do  it.'  He  was  very  ingenuous,  and  very  fond  of 
enlarging  confidingly  upon  domestic  topics  and  virtues 
and  joys,  and  being  encouraged  could  be  relied  upon  so 
to  enlarge  —  always  innocently  and  with  inoffensive, 
youthful  enthusiasm  —  until  deftly  headed  off'  by  the 
soulless  worldling.  I  gave  him  cigars,  and  an  order  of 
attention,  which  seemed  to  please  him.  He  remarked  to 
his  fellow-clerks  that  I  was  a  man  who  had  f  principles  ' 
and  'feelings,'  consequently  I  felt  grateful  to  him.  He 
had  great  confidence  in  '  principles.'  The  bold  thought 
had  presented  itself  to  him  that  if  we  were  more  gov- 
erned by  'principles,'  as  a  nation,  we  should  thrive 
better,  and  there  would  be  less  difficulty  in  steering  the 
ship  of  state ;  but  he  advanced  the  opinion  hesitantly 
as  fearing  injustice  to  his  country  in  the  suggestion." 

"You  are  making  him  very  attractive,"  said  Mrs 
Merriam.  "  There  is  something  touching  about  it  all." 

"  He  was  attractive  to  me,"  returned  Laurence,  "  anc 
he  was  touching  at  times.  He  was  crude,  and  by  nc 
means  brilliant,  but  there  wasn't  an  evil  spot  in  him ; 
and  his  beliefs  were  of  a  strength  and  magnitude  to 
bring  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  the  most  hardened.  He 
recalled  the  dreams  of  youth,  and  even  in  his  most  un- 
intelligently  ardent  moments  appealed  to  one.  Taking 
all  these  things  into  consideration,  you  will  probably 
see  that  it  was  likely  to  be  something  of  a  blow  to  him 
to  find  himself  suddenly  thrown  out  upon  the  world 
without  any  resource  whatever." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  earnestly.  w  Surely 
you  are  not  going  to  tell  us  "  — 

"  That  he  has  lost  his  office,"  said  Laurence.  "  Yes. 
Thrown  out.  Reason  —  place  wanted  for  some  one 
else.  I  shouldn't  call  it  a  good  reason  myself.  I  find 
others  who  would  not  call  it  a  good  reason ;  but  what 
are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  What  did  he  do?"  asked  Agnes. 

n  He  came  into  my  room  one  day,"  answered  Lau- 
rence, "just  as  I  was  leaving  it.  He  was  white  and 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  401 

fa  is  1)  ->s  trembled  in  a  boyish  way  that  struck  me  at  the 
moment  as  being  rather  awful.  He  looked  as  if  he  had 
been  knocked  down.  He  said  to  me,  *  Mr.  Arbuthnot, 
I've  lost  my  place,'  and  then,  after  staring  at  me  a  few 
seconds,  he  added,  'Mr.  Arbuthnot,  what  would  you 
do?'" 

*  It  is  very  cruel,"  said  Agnes.     "It  is  very  hard." 

'  It  is  as  cruel  as  Death  !  "  said  Arbuthnot.  "It  is  as 
hard  as  Life  !  That  such  a  thing  is  possible  —  that  the 
bread  and  home  and  hopes  of  any  honest,  human  creat- 
ure should  be  used  as  the  small  change  of  power  above 
him,  and  trafficked  with  to  sustain  that  power  and  fix  it 
in  its  place  to  make  the  most  of  itself  and  its  greed,  is 
the  burning  shame  and  burden  which  is  slung  around 
our  necks,  and  will  keep  us  from  standing  with  heads 
erect  until  we  are  lightened  of  it." 

He  discovered  that  he  was  in  earnest,  and  recklessly 
allowed  himself  to  continue  in  earnest  until  he  had  said 
his  say.  He  knew  the  self-indulgence  was  indiscreet, 
and  felt  the  indiscretion  all  the  more  when  he  ended  and 
found  himself  confronted  by  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  eyes. 
They  were  fixed  upon  him,  and  wore  an  expression  he 
had  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  in  them  before. 
It  was  an  expression  full  of  charming  emotion,  and  the 
color  was  coming  and  going  in  her  cheek. 

"Go  on,"  she  said,  rather  tremulously,  "if  you 
please."  1 

"  I  did  not  go  on,"  he  replied.  "  I  regret  to  say  1 
couldn't.  I  was  unable  to  tell  him  what  I  should  do." 

"But  you  tried  to  comfort  him?"  said  Agnes.  "I 
am  sure  you  did  what  you  could." 

"  It  was  yery  little,"  said  Laurence.  "  I  let  him  talk, 
*nd  led  h.oii  on  a  little  to  —  well,  to  talking  about  his 
wife*  It  seemed  the  only  thing  at  the  moment.  I 
found  it  possible  to  recall  to  his  mind  one  or  two  things 
he  had  told  me  of  her,  —  probably  doing  it  in  a  most 
inefficient  manner,  —  but  he  appeared  to  appreciate 
the  effort.  The  idea  presented  itself  to  me  that  it  would 


402  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

be  well  to  brace  him  up  and  give  him  a  less  deathly 
look  before  he  went  home  to  her,  as  she  was  not  very 
well,  and  a  childish  creature  at  best.  I  probably  en- 
couraged him  unduly  ;  but  I  had  an  absurd  sense  of  being 
somehow  responsible  for  the  preservation  of  the  two 
rooms  and  the  peace  of  mind  of  the  female  infant, 
and  the  truth  is,  I  have  felt  it  ever  since,  and  so  has 
she." 

He  was  extremely  conscious  of  Mrs.  Sylvestre's  soft 
and  earnest  eyes. 

"  That  was  the  reason  she  called  to  see  me  to-night, 
and,  finding  I  had  just  left  the  house,  followed  me. 
Tom  is  ill,  — his  name  is  Tom  Bosworth.  It  is  nearly 
two  months  since  he  lost  his  place,  and  he  has  walked 
himself  to  a  shadow  in  making  efforts  to  gain  another. 
He  has  written  letters  and  presented  letters ;  he  has 
stood  outside  doors  until  he  was  faint  with  hunger ;  he 
has  interviewed  members  of  Congress,  senators,  heads 
of  departments,  officials  great  and  small.  He  has 
hoped  and  longed  and  waited,  and  taken  buffetings 
meekly.  He  is  not  a  strong  fellow,  and  it  has  broken 
him  up.  He  has  had  several  chills,  and  is  thin  and 
nervous  and  excitable.  Kitty  —  his  wife's  name  is  Kit- 
ty—  is  pale  and  thin  too.  She  has  lost  her  dimples, 
and  her  eyes  look  like  a  sad  little  owl's,  and  always 
have  tears  in  them,  which  she  manages  to  keep  from 
falling  so  long  as  Tom  is  within  sight.  To-night  she 
wanted  to  ask  me  if  I  knew  any  ladies  who  would  give 
her  sewing.  She  thinks  she  might  sew  until  Tom  gets 
a  place  again." 

r*  I  will  give  her  sewing,"  exclaimed  Agnes.  "  I  can 
Jo  something  for  them  if  they  will  let  me.  Oh,  I  am 
very  glad  that  I  can  !" 

"I  felt  sure  you  would  be,"  said  Arbuthnot.  "I 
thought  of  you  at  o  nee,  and  wished  you  could  see  hei 
as  I  saw  her." 

She  answered  him  a  little  hurriedly,  and  he  wondered 
why  her  voice  faltered. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  403 

*  I  will  see  her  to-morrow,"  she  said,  "  if  you  will 
<*ive  me  the  address." 

"I  have  naturally  wondered  if  it  was  possible  that 
anything  could  be  done  for  the  husband,"  he  said.  "If 
you  could  use  your  influence  in  any  way,  — you  see  how 
inevitably  we  come  to  that ;  it  always  becomes  a  ques- 
tion of  influence ;  our  very  charities  are  of  the  nature 
of  schemes ;  it  is  in  the  air  we  breathe." 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,"  she  replied.  "  I  will  do  any- 
thing  —  anything  you  think  would  be  best." 

Mrs.  Merriam  checked  herself  on  the  very  verge  of 
looking  up,  but  though  by  an  effort  she  confined  herself 
to  apparently  giving  all  her  attention  to  her  knitting- 
needles  for  a  few  moments,  she  lost  the  effect  of  neithei 
words  nor  voice.  "No,"  she  made  mental  comment,  "h 
was  not  malaria." 

Arbuthnot  had  never  passed  such  an  evening  in  the 
house  as  this  one  proved  to  be,  and  he  had  spent  many 
agreeable  evenings  there.  To-night  there  was  a  differ- 
ence. Some  barrier  had  melted  or  suddenly  broken 
down.  Mrs.  Sylvestre  was  more  beautiful  than  he  had 
ever  seen  her.  It  thrilled  his  very  soul  to  hear  her  speak 
to  him  and  to  look  at  her.  While  still  entirely  ignorant 
of  the  cause  of  her  displeasure  against  him  he  knew 
that  it  was  removed ;  that  in  some  mysterious  way  she 
had  recognized  the  injustice  of  it,  and  was  impelled  by 
a  sweet,  generous  penitence  to  endeavor  to  make  atone- 
ment. There  was  something  almost  like  the  humility 
of  appeal  in  her  voice  and  eyes.  She  did  not  leave  him 
to  Mrs.  Merriam,  but  talked  to  him  herself.  When  he 
went  away,  after  he  had  left  her  at  the  parlor  door,  she 
lingered  a  moment  upon  the  threshold,  then  crossed 
it,  and  followed  him  into  the  hall.  They  had  been 
speaking  of  the  Bosworths,  and  he  fancied  she  was  going 
to  ask  some  last  question.  But  she  did  not ;  she  simply 
paused  a  short  distance  from  where  he  stood  and 
looked  at  him.  He  had  often  observed  it  in  her, 
that  she  possessed  the  inestimable  gift  of  being  able  to 


*04  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

stand  still  and  remain  silent  with  perfect  grace,  in  suck 
a  manner  that  speech  and  movement  seemed  unneces- 
sary ;  but  he  felt  that  she  had  something  to  say  now  and 
scarcely  knew  how  best  to  say  it,  and  it  occurred  to 
him  that  he  might,  perhaps,  help  her. 

"  You  are  very  much  better  than  you  were  when  I 
came  in,"  he  said. 

She  put  out  her  hand  with  a  gentle,  almost  grateful 
gesture. 

"  Yes,  I  am  much  better,"  she  said.  "  I  was  not  well 
—  or  happy.  I  thought  that  I  had  met  with  a  misfor- 
tune ;  but  it  was  a  mistake." 

"I  am  glad  it  was  a  mistake,"  he  answered.  "I  hope 
such  things  will  always  prove  so." 

And,  a  quick  flush  rising  to  his  face,  he  bent  and 
touched  with  his  lips  the  slim,  white  fingers  lying  upon 
his  palm. 

The  flush  had  not  died  away  when  he  found  himself 
in  the  street ;  he  felt  its  glow  with  a  sense  of  anger  and 
impatience. 

"  I  might  have  known  better  than  to  do  such  a  thing," 
he  said.  "  I  did  know  better.  I  am  a  fool  yet,  it 
seems  —  a  fool  I  " 

But,  notwithstanding  this,  the  evening  was  a  land- 
mark. From  that  time  forward  Mrs.  Merriam  looked 
upon  the  intimacy  with  renewed  interest.  She  found 
Agnes  very  attractive  in  the  new  attitude  she  assumed 
toward  their  acquaintance.  She  indulged  no  longer  in 
her  old  habit  of  depreciating  him  delicately  when 
she  spoke  of  him,  which  was  rarely ;  her  tone  sug- 
gested to  her  relative  that  she  was  desirous  of  atoning 
to  herself  for  her  past  coldness  and  injustice.  There 
was  a  delicious  hint  of  this  in  her  manner  toward  him, 
quiet  as  it  was ;  once  or  twice  Mrs.  Merriam  had  seen 
her  defer  to  him,  and  display  a  disposition  to  adapt  her- 
self to  his  opinions,  which  caused  a  smile  to  flicker  across 
her  discreet  countenance.  Their  mutual  interest  in 
their protigtes  was  a  tie  between  them,  and  developed  » 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  405 

degree  of  intimacy  which  had  never  before  existed. 
The  day  after  hearing  their  story  Agnes  had  paid  the 
young  people  a  visit.  The  two  rooms  in  the  third  story 
of  a  boarding-house  presented  their  modest  household 
goods  to  her  very  touchingly.  The  very  bridal  newness 
of  the  cheap  furniture  struck  her  as  being  pathetic,  and 
the  unsophisticated  adornments  in  the  form  of  chroir.os 
and  bright  tidies  —  the  last,  Kitty's  own  handiwork  -  - 
expressed  to  her  mind  their  innocent  sentiment.  Kitty 
looked  new  herself,  as  she  sat  sewing,  in  a  little  rocking- 
chair,  drawn  near  to  the  sofa  on  which  Tom  lay,  flushed 
and  bright-eyed  after  his  chill ;  but  there  were  premoni- 
tory signs  of  wear  on  her  pretty,  childish  face.  She 
rose,  evidently  terribly  nervous  and  very  much  fright- 
ened at  the  prospect  of  receiving  her  visitor,  when  Mrs. 
Sylvestre  entered,  and,  though  reassured  somewhat  by 
the  mention  of  Arbuthnot's  name,  glanced  timorously 
at  Tom  in  appeal  for  assistance  from  him.  Tom  gave 
it.  His  ingenuous  mind  knew  very  little  fear.  He  tried 
to  stagger  to  his  feet,  smiling,  but  was  so  dizzy  that  he 
made  an  ignominious  failure,  and  sat  down  again  at 
Agnes'  earnest  request. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "I  will,  if  you  don't  mind. 
It's  one  of  my  bad  days,  and  the  fever  makes  my  head 
go  round.  Don't  look  so  down-hearted,  Kitty.  Mrs. 
Sylvestre  knows  chills  don't  count  for  much.  You  see," 
he  said  to  Agnes,  with  an  effort  at  buoyancy  of  man- 
ner, "  they  knock  a  man  over  a  little,  and  it  frightens 
her." 

Agnes  took  a  seat  beside  the  little  rocking-chair,  and 
there  was  something  in  the  very  gentleness  of  her  move- 
ments which  somewhat  calmed  Kitty's  tremor. 

"  It  is  very  natural  that  she  should  feel  anxious,  even 
when  there  is  only  slight  cause,"  Mrs.  Sylvestre  said,  in 
her  low,  sweet  voice.  w  Of  course,  the  cause  is  slight 
in  your  case.  It  is  only  necessary  that  you  should  be  a 
little  careful." 

"  That's  all,"  responded  Tom.     "  A  man  with  a  wifo 


406  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

and  h  ,me  can't  be  too  careful.     He's  got  others  to  think 
of  besides  himself." 

But,  notwithstanding  his  cheerfulness  and  his  origbt 
eyes,  he  was  plainly  weaker  than  he  realized,  and  wad 
rather  glad  to  lie  down  again,  though  he  did  it  apolo- 
getically. 

"Mr.  Arbuthnot  came  in  this  morning  and  told  us 
you  were  coming,"  he  said.  "You  know  him  pretty 
well,  I  suppose." 

"  I  see  him  rather  frequently,"  answered  Agnes ; 
"but  perhaps  I  do  not  know  him  very  well." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Tom.  "  You've  got  to  know  him  very 
well  to  find  out  what  sort  of  fellow  he  is ;  you've  got 
to  know  him  as  /know  him  —  as  we  know  him.  Eh  ! 
Kitty?" 

"Yes,"  responded  Kitty,  a  little  startled  by  finding 
herself  referred  to ;  "  only  you  know  him  best,  Tom. 
You  see,  you're  a  man  "  — 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  with  innocent  complacency,  "of 
course  it's  easier  for  men  to  understand  each  other. 
You  see"  —  to  Agnes,  though  with  a  fond  glance  at 
Kitty  —  "Kitty  was  a  little  afraid  of  him.  She's  shy, 
and  hasn't  seen  much  of  the  world,  and  he's  such  a  swell, 
in  a  quiet  way,  and  when  she  used  to  come  to  the  office 
for  me,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  him,  she  thought  he  was 
always  making  fun  of  everything." 

"I  thought  he  looked  as  if  he  was,"  put  in  Kitty. 
"  And  his  voice  sounded  that  way  when  he  spoke  to 
you,  Tom.  I  even  used  to  think,  sometimes,  that  he 
was  laughing  a  little  at  you  —  and  I  didn't  like  it." 

"  Bless  you  ! "  responded  Tom,  "he  wasn't  thinking  ol 
such  a  thing.  He's  got  too  much  principle  to  make 
friends  with  a  fellow,  and  then  laugh  at  him.  What 
I've  always  liked  in  him  was  his  principle." 

"I  think  there  are  a  great  many  things  to  like  in 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre. 

"There's  everything  to  like  in  him,"  said  Tom, 
"though,  you  see,  I  didn't  find  that  out  at  first.  Tht 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  407 

truth  is,  I  thought  he  was  rather  too  much  of  a  swell  foi 
his  means.  I've  told  him  so  since  we've  been  more  in- 
timate, and  he  said  that  I  was  not  mistaken ;  that  he 
was  too  much  of  a  swell  for  his  means,  but  that  was 
the  fault  of  his  means,  and  the  government  ought  to 
attend  to  it  as  a  sacred  duty.  You  see  the  trouble  is 
he  h  isn't  a  family.  And  what  a  fellow  he  would  be  to 
take  care  of  a  woman  !  1  told  him  that,  too,  once,  and 
he  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed ;  but  he  didn't 
laugh  long.  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  set  him  off  think- 
ing, he  was  so  still  after  it." 

"  He'd  be  very  good  to  his  wife,"  said  Kitty,  timidly. 
"  He's  very  kind  to  me." 

"Yes,"  Tom  went  on,  rejoicing  in  himself,  "he  sees 
things  that  men  don't  see,  generally.  Think  of  his 
noticing  that  you  weren't  wrapped  up  enough  that  cold 
day  we  met  him,  and  going  into  his  place  to  get  a 
shawl  from  his  landlady,  and  making  me  put  it  on  ! " 

"And  don't  you  remember,"  said  Kitty,  "the  day  he 
made  me  so  ashamed,  because  he  said  my  basket  was 
too  heavy,  and  would  carry  it  all  the  way  home 
for  me?" 

Tom  laughed  triumphantly. 

"  He  would  have  carried  a  stove-pipe  just  the  same 
way,"  he  said,  "  and  have  looked  just  as  cool  about  it. 
You'd  no  need  to  be  ashamed ;  he  wasn't.  And  it's  not 
only  that:  see  how  he  asks  me  about  you,  and  cheers 
me  up,  and  helps  me  along  by  talking  to  me  about  you 
when  I'm  knocked  over,  and  says  that  you  mustn't  be 
troubled,  and  I  must  bear  up,  because  I've  got  you  to 
take  care  of,  and  that  when  two  people  are  as  fond  of 
each  other  as  we  are,  they've  got  something  to  hold  OD 
to  that  will  help  them  to  let  the  world  go  by  and  endure 
anything  that  don't  part  them." 

"  He  said  that  to  me,  too,  Tom,"  said  Kitty,  the  ready 
tears  starting  to  her  eyes.  "He  said  it  last  night  when 
I  met  him  on  the  street  and  couldn't  help  crying  because 
you  were  ill.  He  said  I  must  bear  up  for  you  —  and  he 


408  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

was  so  nice  that  I  forgot  to  be  afraid  of  him  at  all 
When  I  began  to  cry  it  frightened  me,  because  I  thought 
he  wouldn't  like  it,  and  that  made  it  so  much  worse  that 
I  couldn't  stop,  and  he  just  put  my  hand  on  his  arm  and 
took  me  into  Lafayette  Park,  where  there  was  a  seat  in 
a  dark  corner  under  the  trees.  And  he  made  me  sit 
down  and  said,  '  Don't  be  afraid  to  cry.  It  will  do  you 

f3od,  and  you  had  better  do  it  before  me  than  before 
om.     Cry  as  much  as  you  like.     I  will  walk  away  a 
few  steps  until  you  are  better.'     And  he  did,  and  I  cried 
until  I  was  quiet,  and  then  he  came  back  to  me  and  told 
me  about  Mrs.  Sylvestre." 

"He's  got  feelings,"  said  Tom,  a  trifle  brokenly,  — "he's 
got  feelings  and — and  principles.  It  makes  a  man  think 
better  of  the  world,  even  when  he's  discouraged,  and 
it's  dealt  hard  with  him." 

Mrs.  Sylvestre  looked  out  of  the  nearest  window , 
there  was  a  very  feminine  tremor  in  her  throat,  and 
something  seemed  to  be  melting  before  her  eyes ;  she 
was  full  of  the  pain  of  regret  and  repentance ;  there 
rose  in  her  mind  a  picture  of  herself  as  she  had  sat  be- 
fore the  fire  in  her  silent  room ;  she  could  not  endure 
the  memory  of  her  own  bitter  contempt  and  scorn  ;  she 
wished  she  might  do  something  to  make  up  for  that  half 
hour ;  she  wished  that  it  were  possible  that  she  might 
drive  down  to  the  Treasury  and  present  herself  at  a  cer- 
tain door,  and  appeal  for  pardon  with  downcast  eyes 
and  broken  voice.  She  was  glad  to  remember  the  light 
touch  upon  her  hand,  even  though  it  had  been  so  very 
light,  and  he  had  left  her  after  it  so  hurriedly. 

" I  am  glad  he  spoke  to  you  of  me,"  she  said.     "I  — 

I  am  grateful  to  him.     I  think  I  can  help  you.     I  hope 

,  you  will  let  me.     I  know  a  great  many  people,  and  I 

might  ask  for  their  influence.      I  will  do  anything  — 

anything  Mr.  Arbuthnot  thinks  best." 

Tom  gave  her  a  warmly  grateful  glance,  his  suscepti- 
ble heart  greatly  moved  by  the  sweetness  and  tremor  of 
her  voice.  She  was  just  the  woman,  it  seemed  to  him, 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  409 

to  be  the  friend  of  such  a  man  as  his  here  ;  only  t 
woman  as  beautiful,  as  sympathetic,  and  having  that 
delicate,  undefinable  air  of  belonging  to  the  great  en- 
chanted world,  in  which  he  confidingly  believed  Arbuth- 
not  figured  with  unrivalled  effect,  could  be  worthy  of 
him.  It  was  characteristic  of  his  simple  nature  that  he 
should  admire  immensely  his  friend's  social  popularity 
and  acquirements,  and  dwell  upon  their  unbounded 
splendor  with  affectionate  reverence. 

"He's  a  society  fellow,"  he  had  said  to  Kitty,  in  his  first 
description  of  him.  "  A  regular  society  fellow  I  Al- 
ways dressed  just  so,  you  know  —  sort  of  quiet  style, 
but  exactly  up  to  the  mark.  He  knows  everybody  and 
gets  invited  everywhere,  though  he  makes  believe  he 
only  gets  taken  in  because  he  can  dance  and  wait  in  the 
supper-room.  He's  out  somewhere  every  night,  bless 
you,  and  spends  half  his  salary  on  kid  gloves  and 
flowers.  He  says  people  ought  to  supply  them  to  fel- 
lows like  him,  as  they  supply  gloves  and  hat-bands  at 
English  funerals.  He  doesn't  save  anything ;  you  know, 
he  can't,  and  he  knows  it's  a  mistake,  but  you  see  when 
a  fellow  is  what  he  is,  it's  not  easy  to  break  off  with 
everything.  These  society  people  want  such  fellows, 
and  they  will  have  them."  * 

It  had  been  this  liberal  description  of  his  exalted 
position  and  elegant  habits  which  had  caused  Kitty  to 
stand  greatly  in  awe  of  him,  at  the  outset,  and  to  fee/ 
that  her  bearing  would  never  stand  the  test  of  criticism 
by  so  proficient  an  expert,  and  she  had  trembled  before 
him  accordingly  and  felt  herself  unworthy  of  his  con- 
descending notice,  until  having,  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
seen  something  in  his  manner  which  did  not  exactly 
coincide  with  her  conception  of  him  as  a  luxurious  and 
haughty  worldling,  she  had  gained  a  little  courage. 
She  had  been  greatly  alarmed  at  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Sj?l- 
vestre,  feeling  vaguely  that  she,  also,  was  a  part  of 
these  mysterious  splendors  ;  but  after  she  heard  the  soft 
break  in  the  tone  in  which  she  said,  with  such  gentle 


410  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

simplicity,  "I  will  do  anything — anything — Mr.  Arbuth- 
not  thinks  best,"  she  felt  timorous  no  more,  and  allowed 
herself  to  be  led  into  telling  her  little  story,  with  a  g?rl- 
ish  pathos  which  would  have  melted  Agnes  Sylvestie'a 
heart,  if  it  had  not  been  melted  already.  It  might,  per- 
haps, better  have  been  called  Tom's  story  than  her  own, 
ns  it  was  all  about  Tom,  — Tom's  struggles,  Tom's  disap- 
pointments, Tom's  hopes,  which  all  seemed  prostrated ; 
the  little  house  Tom  had  been  thinking  of  buying  and 
making  nice  for  her ;  the  member  of  Congress  who  had 
snubbed  Tom ;  the  senator  who  had  been  rough  with 
him ;  the  cold  he  had  taken  ;  the  chills  and  fevers  which 
had  resulted ;  the  pain  in  his  side.  "  We  have  used  all 
our  money,"  she  ended,  with  a  touching  little  catch  of 
her  breath,  —  w  if  it  had  not  been  for  Mr.  Arbuthnot  — 
Mr.  Arbuthnot"  — 

"Yes,"  said  Tom,  wofully,  "he'll  have  to  go  without 
a  pair  or  so  of  gloves  this  month  and  smoke  fewer 
cigars ;  and  I  couldn't  have  believed  that  there  was  a 
man  living  I  could  have  borne  to  take  money  from,  but, 
somehow,  he  made  it  seem  almost  as  if  he  owed  it 
to  me." 

When  Mrs.  Sylvestre  went  away  she  left  hope  and 
comfort  behind  her.  Kitty  followed  her  into  the  pas- 
sage with  new  light  in  her  eyes. 

"If  I  have  the  sewing,"  she  said,  clasping  her  hands, 
"  it  will  be  such  a  load  off  Tom's  mind  to  know  that  we 
have  a  little  money,  that  he  will  get  better.  And  he 
knows  I  like  sewing ;  so,  perhaps,  he  will  not  mind 
it  so  much.  I  am  so  thankful  to  you !  If  Tom  will 
only  get  well,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  broken  whisper,  — 
"  if  Tom  will  only  get  well ! "  And,  suddenly,  in  response 
to  some  look  on  Agnes'  face,  and  a  quick,  caressing 
gesture,  she  leaned  forward,  and  was  folded  in  her 
arms. 

It  is  very  natural  to  most  women  to  resort  to  the 
simple  feminine  device  of  tears,  but  it  was  not  often 
Mrs.  Sylveetre  so  indulged  herself,  and  there  were  tears 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  411 

in  her  eyes  and  in  her  voice,  too,  as  she  held  the 
gentle,  childish  creature  to  her  breast.  She  had  felt  a 
great  deal  during  the  last  twenty-four  hours,  and  the 
momentary  display  of  emotion  was  a  relief  t<  her.  "  He 
will  get  better,"  she  said,  with  almost  maternal  tender- 
ness, "and  you  must  help  him  by  taking  care  of  your- 
self, and  giving  him  no  cause  for  anxiety.  You  must  let 
me  help  to  take  care  of  you.  We  will  do  all  we  can," 
—  and  there  was  something  akin  to  fresh  relief  to  hei 
10  the  mere  use  of  the  little  word  "  we." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION* 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

MRS.  MERRIAM  saw  faint  traces  of  tears  in  Mrs 
Sylvestre's  eyes  when  she  returned  /rom  her  call  on  the 
Bosworths,  and  speculated,  with  some  wonder,  as  to 
what  her  exact  mental  condition  was,  but  asked  very  few 
questions,  feeling  that,  upon  the  whole,  she  would  pre- 
fer to  hear  the  version  of  the  story  given  to  Mr.  Arbuth- 
not  when  he  called.  He  did  so  the  following  evening, 
and,  having  seen  the  Bosworths  in  the  interval,  had  com- 
ments of  his  own  to  make. 

w  It  was  very  good  in  you  to  call  so  soon,"  he  said  to 
Agnes. 

"I  wished  very  much  to  call,1*  she  replied.  "I  could 
not  have  waited  longer." 

"  You  left  a  transcendent  impression,"  said  Arbuthnot. 
"  Tom  was  very  enthusiastic,  and  Kitty  feels  that  all 
their  troubles  are  things  of  the  past." 

"  They  talked  to  me  a  great  deal  of  you, "said  Agnes. 
"I  felt  after  hearing  them  that  I  had  not  known  you 
very  well  —  and  wished  that  I  had  known  you  better." 

She  said  it  with  a  sweet  gravity  which  he  found 
strangely  disturbing ;  but  his  reply  did  not  commit  him 
to  any  special  feeling. 

"  They  will  prove  fatal  to  me,  I  see,"  he  said.  "Don't 
allow  them  to  prejudice  you  against  me  in  that  manner." 

"  I  wish,"  she  said,  "that  my  friends  might  be  preju- 
diced against  me  in  the  same  way." 

Then  he  revealed  a  touch  of  earnestness  in  spite  of 
himself.  They  had  both  been  standing  upon  the  hearth, 
and  he  took  a  step  toward  her. 

"For  pity's  sake,"  he  said,  "don't  overrate  me  i 
Women  are  always  too  generous.  Don't  you  see,  you 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  413 

will  find  me  out,  and  then  it  will  bo  worse  for  me  than 
before." 

She  stood  in  one  of  her  perfect,  motionless  attitudes , 
and  looked  down  at  the  rug. 

"  I  wish  to  find  you  out,"  she  said,  slowly.  w  I  have 
done  you  injustice." 

And  then  she  turned  away  and  walked  across  the 
room  to  a  table  where  there  were  some  books,  and  when 
she  returned  she  brought  one  of  them  with  her  and  be- 
gan to  speak  of  it.  He  always  felt  afterward  that  the 
memory  of  this  "injustice,"  as  she  called  it,  was  con- 
stantly before  her,  and  he  would  have  been  more  than 
human  if  he  had  not  frequently  wondered  what  it  was. 
He  could  not  help  feeling  that  it  had  taken  a  definite 
form,  and  that  she  had  been  betra}^ed  into  it  on  the  even- 
ing he  had  first  spoken  to  her  of  the  Bosworths,  and 
that  somehow  his  story  had  saved  him  in  her  eyes.  But 
he  naturally  forbore  to  ask  questions  or  even  touch 
upon  the  subject,  and  thanked  the  gods  for  the  good 
which  befell  him  as  a  result  of  the  evil  he  had  escaped. 
And  yet,  as  the  time  passed  by,  and  he  went  oftener  to 
the  house,  and  found  keener  pleasure  in  each  visit,  he 
had  his  seasons  of  fearing  that  it  was  not  all  going  to  bo 
gain  for  him ;  when  he  faced  the  truth,  indeed,  he  knew 
that  it  was  not  all  gain,  and  yet  he  was  not  stoic  enough 
to  turn  his  back  and  fly. 

"  It  will  cost !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  It  will  cost ! 
But"  — 

And  then  he  would  set  his  lips  together  and  be  silent 
for  an  hour  or  so,  and  those  of  his  acquaintance  who  de- 
manded constant  vivacity  from  him  began  to  wonder 
among  themselves  if  he  was  quite  the  fellow  he  had 
been.  If  the  friendship  was  pleasant  during  the  season, 
it  was  pleasanter  when  the  gayeties  ceased  and  the 
spring  set  in,  with  wanner  air  and  sunshine,  and  leaves 
and  blossoms  in  the  parks.  There  was  a  softness  in  the 
atmosphere  not  conducive  to  sternness  of  purpose  and 
golf-denial.  As  he  walked  to  and  from  his  office  he 


414  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

found  his  thoughts  wandering  in  paths  he  felt  were 
dangerous,  and  once,  unexpectedly  meeting  Mis.  Sylves- 
tre  when  so  indulging  himself,  he  started  and  gained 
such  sudden  color  that  she  flushed  also,  and,  having 
stepped  to  speak  to  him,  forgot  what  she  had  intended 
to  say,  and  was  a  little  angry,  both  with  herself 
and  him,  when  a  confusing  pause  followed  their 
greeting. 

Their  interest  in  the  Bosworths  was  a  tie  between  them 
which  gave  them  much  in  common.  Agnes  went  to  see 
them  often,  and  took  charge  of  Kitty,  watching  over 
and  caring  for  her  in  a  tender,  half-maternal  fashion. 
Arbuthnot  took  private  pleasure  in  contemplating.  He 
liked  to  hear  Kitty  talk  about  her,  and,  indeed,  had  on 
more  than  one  occasion  led  her  with  some  dexterity  into 
doing  so.  It  was  through  Kitty,  at  last,  that  his  mys- 
tery was  solved  for  him. 

This  happened  in  the  spring.  There  had  been  several 
warm  days,  one  so  unusually  warm,  at  last,  that  in  the 
evening  Mrs.  Sylvestre  accepted  his  invitation  to  spend 
an  hour  or  so  on  the  river  with  him.  On  their  way 
there  they  stopped  to  leave  a  basket  of  fruit  for  Tom, 
whose  condition  was  far  from  being  what  they  had 
hoped  for,  and  while  making  their  call  Kitty  made  a 
remark  which  caused  Arbuthnot's  pulse  to  accelerate  its 
pace  somewhat. 

"  When  you  saw  me  crying  on  the  street  that  night," 
she  began,  addressing  Agnes.  Arbuthnot  turned  upon 
her  quickly. 

"What  night?"  he  asked. 

w  The  night  you  took  me  into  Lafayette  Square,"  said 
Kitty ;  "Mrs.  Sylvestre  saw  me,  though  I  did  not  know 
it  until  yesterday.  She  was  going  to  call  on  Mrs, 
Amory,  and"  — 

Arbuthnot  looked  at  Agnes ;  he  could  not  have  for- 
borne, whatever  the  look  had  cost  him.  The  color 
came  into  her  cheek  and  died  out. 

w  Did  you  ?  "  he  demanded. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  415 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  and  rose  and  walked  to  the 
window,  and  stood  there  perfectly  still. 

Arbuthnot  did  not  hear  the  remainder  of  Kitty's 
remarks.  He  replied  to  them  blindly,  and  as  soon  aa 
possible  left  his  chair  and  went  to  the  window  himself. 

"If  you  are  ready,  perhaps  we  had  better  go,"  he 
said. 

They  went  out  of  the  room  and  down  the  stairs  in 
silence.  He  wanted  to  give  himself  time  to  collect  his 
thoughts,  and  get  the  upper  hand  of  a  frantic  feeling  of 
passionate  anger  which  had  taken  possession  of  him.  If 
he  had  spoken  he  might  have  said  something  savage, 
which  he  would  have  repented  afterward  in  sackcloth 
and  ashes.  His  sense  of  the  injustice  he  had  suffered, 
however  momentary,  at  the  hands  of  this  woman  whose 
opinion  he  cared  for,  was  natural,  masculine,  and  fierce. 
He  saw  everything  in  a  flash,  and  for  a  moment  or  so 
forgot  all  else  in  his  bitterness  of  spirit.  But  his  usual 
coolness  came  to  the  rescue  when  this  moment  was 
past,  and  he  began  to  treat  himself  scornfully,  as  was  his 
custom.  There  was  no  reason  why  she  should  not  think 
ill  of  him,  circumstances  evidently  having  been  against 
him,  he  said  to  himself;  she  knew  nothing  specially  good 
of  him ;  she  had  all  grounds  for  regarding  him  as  a 
creature  with  neither  soul  nor  purpose  nor  particularly 
fixed  principles,  and  with  no  other  object  in  life  than  the 
gratification  of  his  fancies ;  why  should  she  believe  in 
him  against  a  rather  black  array  in  the  form  of  facts  ?  It 
was  not  agreeable,  but  why  blame  her?  He  would  not 
blame  her  or  indulge  in  any  such  personal  folly.  Then 
he  glanced  at  her  and  saw  that  the  color  had  not  come 
back  to  her  face.  When  he  roused  himself  to  utter  a 
civil,  commonplace  remark  or  so,  there  was  the  sound 
of  fatigue  in  her  voice  when  she  answered  him,  and  it 
was  very  low.  She  did  not  seem  inclined  to  talk,  and 
he  had  the  consideration  to  leave  her  to  herself  as  much 
as  possible  until  they  reached  the  boat-house.  He  ar- 
ranged her  cushions  and  wraps  in  the  boat  with  care  and 


416  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

dexterity,  and,  wheii  he  took  the  oars,  felt  that  he  had 
himself  pretty  well  in  hand.  The  river  was  very  quiei, 
and  the  last  glow  of  sunset  red  was  slowly  changing  to 
twilight  purple  on  the  water;  a  sickle-shaped  moon 
hung  in  the  sky,  and  somewhere  farther  up  the  shore 
a  night  bird  was  uttering  brief,  plaintive  cries.  Agnes 
sat  at  the  end  of  the  boat,  with  her  face  a  little  turned 
away,  as  if  she  were  listening  to  the  sound.  Arbuthnot 
wondered  if  she  was,  and  thought  again  that  she  looked 
tired  and  a  little  pathetic.  If  he  had  known  all  her 
thoughts  he  would  have  felt  the  pathos  in  her  eyes  a 
thousand  times  more  keenly. 

She  had  a  white  hyacinth  in  her  hand,  whose  odor 
seemed  to  reach  him  more  powerfully  at  each  stroke  of 
the  oars,  and  at  last  she  turned  and  spoke,  looking 
down  at  the  flower. 

"  The  saddest  things  that  are  left  to  one  of  a  bitter 
experience,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  w  are  the  knowl- 
edge and  distrust  that  come  of  it." 

"  They  are  very  natural  results,"  he  replied,  briefly. 

"Oh,  they  are  very  hard!"  she  exclaimed.  "They 
are  very  hard.  They  leave  a  stain  on  all  one's  life,  and 
— and  it  can  never  be  wiped  away.  Sometimes  I  think 
it  is  impossible  to  be  generous  —  to  be  kind  —  to  trust 
at  all"  — 

Her  voice  broke ;  she  put  her  hands  up  before  her 
face,  and  he  saw  her  tremble. 

"  One  may  have  been  innocent,"  she  said,  "  and  have 
believed  —  and  thought  no  evil  —  but  after  one  has  been 
fio  stained  "  — 

He  stopped  rowing. 

"There  is  no  stain,"  he  said.     "Don't  call  it  one." 

"It  must  be  one,"  she  said,  "when  one  sees  evil, 
and  is  suspicious,  and  on  the  alert  to  discover  wrong. 
But  it  brings  suffering,  as  if  it  were  a  punishment.  I 
have  suffered.' 

He  paused  a  second  and  answered,  looking  backward 
aver  bis  shoulder. 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  417 

"So  did  I  —  for  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  But  it  is  over 
now.  Don't  think  of  me." 

"I  must  think  of  you,"  she  said.  "How  could  I 
help  it?" 

She  turned  a  little  more  toward  him  and  leaned  for- 
ward, the  most  exquisite  appeal  in  her  delicate  face,  the 
most  exquisite  pathos  in  her  unsteady  voice. 

"If  I  ask  you  to  forgive  me,"  she  said,  "you  will 
only  say  that  I  was  forgiven  before  I  asked.  I  know 
that.  I  wish  I  could  say  something  else.  I  wish  —  I 
wish  I  knew  what  to  do." 

He  looked  up  the  river  and  down,  and  then  suddenly 
at  her.  The  set,  miserable  expression  of  his  face 
startled  her,  and  caused  her  to  make  an  involuntary 
movement. 

"  Don't  do  anything  —  don't  say  anything !  "  he  said. 
w  I  can  bear  it  better." 

And  he  bent  himself  to  his  oars  and  rowed  furiously. 

She  drew  back,  and  turned  her  face  aside.  Abrupt 
as  the  words  were,  there  was  no  rebuff  in  them ;  but 
there  was  something  else  which  silenced  her  effectually. 
She  was  glad  of  the  faint  light,  and  her  heart  quickened, 
which  last  demonstration  did  not  please  her.  She  had 
been  calm  too  long  to  enjoy  any  new  feeling  of  excite- 
ment ;  she  had  liked  the  calmness,  and  had  desired 
beyond  all  things  that  it  should  remain  undisturbed. 

"  There  is  one  prayer  I  pray  every  morning,"  she 
had  once  said  to  Bertha,  earnestly.  "It  is  that  the 
day  may  bring  nothing  to  change  the  tone  of  my  life." 

She  had  felt  a  little  ripple  in  the  current  ever  since 
the  eventful  night,  and  had  regretted  it  sorely,  and 
now,  just  for  the  moment,  it  was  something  stronger. 
Sc  she  was  very  still  as  she  sat  with  averted  face,  and 
the  hour  spent  upon  the  water  was  a  singularly  silent 
one. 

When  they  returned  home  they  found  Colonel  Tre- 
dennis  with  Mrs.  Merriam,  but  just  on  the  point  of 
leaving  her. 


I 

418  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

*  I  am  going  to  see  Amory,"  he  said.  "  I  hay« 
heard  some  news  he  will  consider  bad.  The  Westoria 
affair  has  been  laid  aside,  and  will  not  be  acted  upon 
this  session,  if  at  all.  It  is  said  that  Blundel  heard 
something  he  did  not  like,  and  interfered." 

"  And  you  think  Mr.  Amory  will  be  very  much  dis- 
appointed?" said  Agnes. 

"  I  am  afraid  so,"  answered  Tredennis. 

"  And  yet,"  said  Agnes,  "  it  isn't  easy  to  see  why  it 
should  be  of  so  much  importance  to  him." 

"He  has  become  interested  in  it,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam. 
"  That  is  the  expression,  isn't  it  ?  It  is  my  opinion  that 
it  would  be  better  for  him  if  he  were  less  so.  I  have 
seen  that  kind  of  thing  before.  It  is  like  being  bitten 
by  a  tarantula." 

She  was  not  favorably  inclined  toward  Richard.  His 
sparkling  moods  did  not  exhilarate  her,  and  she  had  her 
private  theories  concerning  his  character.  Tredennis 
she  was  very  fond  of;  few  of  his  moods  escaped  her 
bright  eyes ;  few  of  the  changes  in  him  were  lost  upon 
her.  When  he  went  away  this  evening  she  spoke  of 
him  to  Agnes  and  Arbuthnot. 

"If  that  splendid  fellow  does  not  improve,"  she  said, 
"  he  will  begin  to  grow  old  in  his  prime.  He  is  lean 
and  gaunt ;  his  eyes  are  dreary  ;  he  is  beginning  to  have 
lines  on  his  forehead  and  about  his  mouth.  He  is  endur- 
ing something.  I  should  be  glad  to  be  told  what  it  is." 

"Whatever  he  endured,"  said  Agnes,  "he  would  not 
tell  people.  But  I  think  'enduring'  is  a  very  good 
word." 

"How  long  have  you  known  him?"  Mrs.  Merriam 
asked  of  Arbuthnot. 

"  Since  the  evening  after  his  arrival  in  Washington  OD 
his  retiun  from  the  West,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Was  he  like  this  then  ?  "  rather  sharply. 

Arbuthnot  reflected. 

"  I  met  him  at  a  reception,"  he  said,  "  and  he  was  not 
Washingtonian  in  his  manner.  My  impression  was  thai 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  419 

he  would  not  enjoy  our  society,  and  that  he  would  finally 
despise  us  ;  but  he  looked  less  fagged  then  than  he  does 
now.  Perhaps  he  begins  to  long  for  his  daily  Pi-ute. 
There  are  chasms  which  an  effete  civilization  does  not 
fill." 

"  You  guess  more  than  you  choose  to  tell,"  was  Mrs. 
Merriam's  inward  thought.  Aloud  she  said : 

"  He  is  the  finest  human  being  it  has  been  my  pleas- 
ure to  meet.  He  is  the  natural  man.  If  I  were  a  girl 
again  I  think  I  should  make  a  hero  of  him,  and  be  un- 
happy for  his  sake." 

"It  would  be  easy  to  make  a  hero  of  him,"  said 
Agnes. 

"  Very  !  "  responded  Arbuthnot.  w  Unavoidable,  in 
fact."  And  he  laid  upon  the  table  the  bit  of  hyacinth 
he  had  picked  up  in  the  boat  and  brought  home  with 
him.  "  If  I  carry  it  away,"  was  his  private  thought,  "I 
shall  fall  into  the  habit  of  sitting  and  weakening  my 
mind  over  it.  It  is  weak  enough  already."  But  he 
knew,  at  the  same  time,  that  Colonel  Tredennis  had 
done  something  toward  assisting  him  to  form  the  resolu- 
tion. "A  trivial  masculine  vanity,"  he  thought,  "not 
unfrequently  strengthens  one's  position." 

In  the  meantime  Tredennis  went  to  Amory.  He  found 
him  in  the  room  which  was,  in  its  every  part,  so  strong 
a  reminder  of  Bertha.  It  wore  a  desolate  look,  and 
Amory  had  evidently  been  walking  up  and  down  it, 
pushing  chairs  and  footstools  aside  carelessly,  when  he 
found  them  in  his  way.  He  had  thrown  himself,  at  last, 
into  Bertha's  own  special  easy-chair,  and  leaned  back  in 
it,  with  his  hands  thrown  out  over  its  padded  arms.  He 
had  plainly  not  slept  well  the  night  before,  and  his  dress 
had  a  careless  and  dishevelled  look,  very  marked  in  its 
contrast  with  the  customary  artistic  finish  of  his  attire. 

He  sprang  up  when  he  saw  Tredennis,  and  began  to 
speak  at  once. 

"  I  say  I "  he  exclaimed,  "  this  is  terrible  I " 

"  You  have  been  disappointed,"  said  Tredennis, 


*20  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

WI  have  been  rui"  —  he  checked  himself;  "disap- 
pointed isn't  the  word,"  he  ended.  "  The  whole  thing 
has  been  laid  aside  —  laid  aside  —  think  of  't !  as  if  it 
were  a  mere  nothing ;  an  application  for  a  two-penny 
half-penny  pension  !  Great  God  I  what  do  the  fellows 
think  they  are  dealing  with  ?  " 

"  Who  do  you  think  is  to  blame  ?  "  said  the  colonel, 
stolidly. 

w  Blundel,  by  Jove  !  —  Blundel,  that  fool  and  clown  ! " 
and  he  flung  himself  about  the  room,  mumbling  his  rage 
and  irritation. 

"  It  is  not  the  first  time  such  a  thing  has  happened," 
said  Tredennis,  "  and  it  won't  be  the  last.  If  you  con- 
tinue to  interest  yourself  in  such  matters  you  will  find 
that  out,  as  others  have  done  before  you.  Take  my  ad- 
vice, and  give  it  up  from  this  hour." 

Amory  wheeled  round  upon  him. 

"  Give  it  up  I  "  he  cried,  w  I  can't  give  it  up,  man  !  It 
is  only  laid  aside  for  the  time  being.  Heaven  and  earth 
shall  be  moved  next  year —  Heaven  and  earth !  The 
thing  won't  fail  —  it  can't  fail  —  a  thing  like  that ;  a  thing 
I  have  risked  my  very  soul  on  1 " 

He  dashed  his  hand  through  his  tumbled  hair  and 
threw  himself  into  the  chair  again,  quite  out  of  breath. 

"  Ah,  confound  it ! "  he  exclaimed,  w  I  am  too  excita- 
ble !  I  am  losing  my  hold  on  myself." 

Tredennis  rose  from  his  seat,  feeling  some  movement 
necessary.  He  stood  and  looked  down  at  the  floor. 
As  he  gazed  up  at  him  Ainory  entered  a  fretful  mental 
protest  against  his  size  and  his  air  of  being  able  to  con- 
trol himself.  He  was  plainly  deep  in  thought  even 
when  he  spoke,  for  his  eyes  did  not  leave  the  floor. 

w  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  this  is  really  no  business  of 
mine.  I  wish  it  was." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Amory. 

Tredennis  looked  up. 

*  If  it  were  my  business  I  would  know  more  about 


sre  my 

i.— "i 


it,"  he  said. — "I  would  know   what  you  mean,  and 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  421 

how  deep  you  have  gone  into  this  —  this  accursed 
scheme." 

The  last  two  words  had  a  sudden  ring  of  intensity  in 
their  sound,  which  affected  Amory  tremendously.  He 
sprang  up  again  and  began  to  pace  the  floor. 

*  Nothing  ever  promised  so  well,"  he  said,  "and  it 
will  turn  out  all  right  in  the  end  —  it  must!  It  is 
the  delay  that  drives  one  wild.  It  will  be  all  right  next 
season  —  when  Bertha  is  here." 

"What  has  she  to  do  with  it?"  demanded  Tre- 
dennis. 

"  Nothing  very  much,"  said  Amory,  restively ;  "  but 
she  is  effective." 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  are  going  to  set  her  to  lobby- 
ing?" 

"  Why  should  you  call  it  that  ?  I  am  not  going  to 
set  her  at  anything.  She  has  a  good  effect,  that  is  all. 
Planefield  swears  that  if  she  had  stayed  at  home  and 
taken  Blundel  in  hand  he  would  not  have  failed  us." 

Tredennis  looked  at  him  stupefied.  He  could  get  no 
grasp  upon  him.  He  wondered  if  a  heavy  mental  blow 
would  affect  him.  He  tried  it  in  despair. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  what  people  are 
beginning  to  say  about  Planefield  ?  " 

"  They  are  always  saying  something  of  Planefield. 
He  is  the  kind  of  man  who  is  always  spoken  of." 

"Then,"  said  Tredennis,  "there  is  all  the  more  reason 
why  his  name  should  not  be  connected  with  that  of  an 
innocent  woman." 

"  What  woman  has  been  mentioned  in  connection 
with  him?" 

"It  has  been  said  more  than  once  that  he  is  in  love 
with  —  your  wife,  and  that  his  infatuation  is  used  to 
advance  your  interests." 

Richard  stopped  on  his  walk. 

"  Then  it  is  a  confoundedly  stupid  business,"  he  said, 
angrily.  "  If  she  hears  it  she  will  never  speak  to  him 
again.  Perhaps  she  has  heard  it;  perhaps  that  waa 


422  THROUGH  ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

why  she  insisted  on  going  a  way .     I  thought  there  wai 
something  wrong  at  the  time." 

"May  I  ask,"  said  Tredennis,  "how  it  strikes  you?* 

"  Me  I "  exclaimed  Richard.     "  As  the  most  awkward 
piece  of  business  in  the  world,  and  as  likely  to  do  me 
more  harm  than  anything  else  could." 
/         He  made  a  graceful,  rapid  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  Everything  goes  against  me  ! "  he  said.  "  She 
never  liked  him  from  the  first,  and  if  she  has  heard  this 
she  will  never  be  civil  to  him  again,  or  to  any  of  the 
rest  of  them.  And,  of  course,  she  is  an  influence,  in  a 
measure  ;  what  clever  woman  is  not?  And  why  should 
she  not  use  her  influence  in  one  way  as  well  as 
another  ?  If  she  were  a  clergyman's  wife  she  would 
work  hard  enough  to  gain  favors.  It  is  only  a  trifle 
that  she  should  make  an  effort  to  be  agreeable  to  men 
who  will  be  pleased  by  her  civility.  She  would  do  it 
if  there  were  nothing  to  be  gained.  Where  are  you 
going  ?  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  for  Tredennis  had  walked 
to  the  table  and  taken  his  hat. 

"I  am  going  into  the  air,"  he  answered ;  "I  am  afraid 
I  cannot  be  of  any  use  to  you  to-night.  My  mind  is 
not  very  clear  just  now.  I  must  have  time  to  think." 

"You  look  pale,"  said  Amory,  staring  at  him.  "You 
look  ghastly.  You  have  not  been  up  to  the  mark  for 
months.  I  have  seen  that.  Washington  does  not  agree 
with  you." 

"That  is  it,"  was  Tredennis  response.  "Washing- 
ton does  not  agree  with  me." 

And  he  carried  his  hat  and  his  pale  and  haggard  coun- 
tenance out  into  the  night,  and  left  Richard  gazing  after 
him,  feverish,  fretted,  thwarted  in  his  desire  to  pour 
forth  his  grievances  and  defend  himself,  and  also  filled 
with  baffled  amazement  at  his  sudden  departure. 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  42'i 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

MRS.  AMORY  did  not  receive  on  New  Year's  day.  The 
season  had  well  set  in  before  she  arrived  in  Washington. 
One  morning  in  January  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  sitting  alone, 
reading,  caught  sight  of  the  little  coupd  as  it  drew  up 
before  the  carriage-step,  and,  laying  aside  her  book, 
reached  the  parlor  door  in  time  to  meet  Bertha  as  she 
entered  it.  She  took  both  her  hands  and  drew  her 
toward  the  fire,  still  holding  them. 

"  Why  did  I  not  know  you  had  returned  ?  "  she  said. 
"  When  did  you  arrive  ?  " 

w  Last  night,"  Bertha  answered.  "  You  see  I  come  to 
you  early." 

It  was  a  cold  day  and  she  was  muffled  in  velvet  and 
furs.  She  sat  down,  loosened  her  wrap  and  let  it  slip 
backward,  and  as  its  sumptuous  fulness  left  her  figure 
it  revealed  it  slender  to  fragility,  and  showed  that  the 
outline  of  her  cheek  had  lost  all  its  roundness.  She 
smiled  faintly,  meeting  Agnes'  anxious  eyes. 

"  Don't  look  at  me,"  she  said.  "  I  am  not  pretty.  T 
have  been  ill.  You  heard  I  was  not  well  in  Newport? 
It  was  a  sort  of  low  fever,  and  I  am  not  entirely  well 
yet.  Malaria,  you  know,  is  always  troublesome.  But 
you  are  very  well  ?  " 

w  Yes,  I  am  well,"  Agnes  replied. 

"  And  you  begin  to  like  Washington  again  ?  " 

t?I  began  last  winter." 

"How  did  you  enjoy  the  spring?  You  were  her« 
until  the  end  of  June." 

"It  was  lovely." 

**  And  now  you  are  here  once  more,  and  how  pretty 
everything  about  you  is  ! "  Bertha  said,  glancing  around 
the  room.  w  And  you  are  ready  to  be  happy  all  winter 


424  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINIST-tl  4TION. 

until  June  again.  Do  you  know,  you  look  happy.  Not 
excitably  happy,  but  gently,  calmly  happy,  as  if  the 
present  were  enough  for  you." 

"  It  is,"  said  Agnes,  "  I  don't  think  I  want  any  future.'1 

"It  would  be  as  well  to  abolish  it  if  one  could,' 
Bertha  answered  ;  w  but  it  comes  —  it  comes  !  " 

She  sat  and  looked  at  the  fire  a  few  seconds  under  the 
soft  shadow  of  her  lashes,  and  then  spoke  again. 

"As  for  me,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  give  dinner- 
parties to  Senator  Planefield's  friends." 

"  Bertha  !  "  exclaimed  Agnes. 

"Yes,"  said  Bertha,  nodding  gently.  "It  appears 
somehow  that  Richard  belongs  to  Senator  Planefield, 
and,  as  I  belong  to  Richard,  why,  you  see  "  — 

She  ended  with  a  dramatic  little  gesture,  and  looked 
at  Agnes  once  more. 

"  It  took  me  some  time  to  understand  it,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  understand  it  quite 
thoroughly  even  now.  It  is  a  little  puzzling,  or,  per- 
haps, I  am  dull  of  comprehension.  At  all  events, 
Richard  has  talked  to  me  a  great  deal.  It  is  plainly 
my  duty  to  be  agreeable  and  hospitable  to  the  people 
he  wishes  to  please  and  bring  in  contact  with  each  other. J> 

"And  those  people?"  asked  Agnes. 

"  They  are  political  men  :  they  are  members  of  com- 
mittees, members  of  the  House,  members  of  the  Senate  ; 
and  their  only  claim  to  existence  in  our  eyes  is  that 
they  are  either  in  favor  of  or  opposed  to  a  certain  bill 
not  indirectly  connected  with  the  welfare  of  the  owners 
of  Westoria  lands." 

"  Bertha,"  said  Agnes,  quickly,  "  you  are  not  yourself/ 

w  Thank  you,"  was  the  response,  "that  is  always  satis- 
factory, but  the  compliment  would  be  more  definite  if 
you  told  me  who  I  happened  to  be.  But  I  can  tel] 
you  that  I  am  that  glittering  being,  the  female  lobbyist. 
I  used  to  wonder  last  winter  if  I  was  not  on  the  verge  of 
it;  but  now  I  know.  I  wonder  if  they  all  begin  as 
innocently  as  I  did,  and  find  the  descent  —  isn't  it  • 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  425 

descent  ?  —  as  easy  and  natural.  I  feel  queer,  but  not 
exactly  disreputable.  It  is  merely  a  matter  of  being  a 
dutiful  wife  and  smiling  upon  one  set  of  men  instead  of 
another.  Still,  I  am  slightly  uncertain  as  to  just  how 
disreputable  I  am.  I  was  beginning  to  be  quite  recon- 
ciled to  my  atmosphere  until  I  saw  Colonel  Tredennis, 
and  I  confess  he  unsettled  my  mind  and  embarrassed  me 
a  little  in  my  decision." 

"  You  have  seen  him  already  ?  " 

"  Accidentally,  yes.  He  did  not  know  I  had  returned, 
and  came  to  see  Richard.  He  is  quite  intimate  with 
Richard  now.  He  entered  the  parlor  and  found  me 
there.  I  do  not  think  he  was  gkd  to  see  me.  I  left 
him  very  soon." 

She  drew  off  her  glove,  and  smoothed  it  out  upon  Jier 
knee,  with  a  thin  and  fragile  little  hand  upon  which  the 
rings  hung  loosely.  Agnes  bent  forward  and  involun- 
tarily laid  her  own  hand  upon  it. 

"  Dear,"  she  said. 

Bertha  hurriedly  lifted  her  eyes. 

"  What  I  wish  to  say,"  she  said,  "  was  that  the  week 
after  next  we  give  a  little  dinner  to  Senator  Blundel, 
and  I  wanted  to  be  sure  I  might  count  on  you.  If  you 
are  there  —  and  Colonel  Tredennis  —  you  will  give  it 
an  unprofessional  aspect,  which  is  what  we  want.  But 
perhaps  you  will  refuse  to  come  ?  " 

"  Bertha,"  said  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  "  I  will  be  with  you  a4, 
any  time  —  at  all  times  —  you  wish  for  or  need  me." 

"Yes,"  said  Bertha,  reflecting  upon  her  a  moment, 
"I  think  you  would." 

She  got  up  and  kissed  her  lightly  and  without  effu- 
sion, and  then  Agnes  rose,  too,  and  they  stood  together. 

*  You  were  always  good,"  Bertha  said.  w  I  think  life 
has  made  you  better  instead  of  worse.  It  is  not  so  alway  ». 
Things  are  so  different  —  everything  seems  to  depend 
upon  circumstances.  What  is  good  in  me  would  be  far 
enough  from  your  standards  to  be  called  wickedness." 

She  paused  al  ruptly,  and  Agnes  felt  that  she  did  so 


426  THROUGH   ONE    ADMIN  I  SIB  A  WON. 

to  place  a  check  upon  nerself ;  she  had  seen  her  do  it 
before.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was  in  an  entirely 
different  tone,  and  the  remaining  half-hour  of  her  visit 
was  spent  in  the  discussion  of  e very-day  subjects.  Ag- 
nes listened,  and  replied  to  her  with  a  sense  of  actual 
anguish.  She  could  have  borne  better  to  have  seen  her 
less  self-controlled;  or  she  fancied  so,  at  least.  The 
summer  had  made  an  alteration  in  her,  which  it  was  al- 
most impossible  to  describe.  Every  moment  revealed 
some  new,  sad  change  in  her,  and  yet  she  sat  and  talked 
commonplaces,  and  was  bright,  and  witty,  and  epigram- 
matic until  the  last. 

"When  we  get  our  bill  through,"  she  said,  with  a  lit- 
tle smile,  just  before  her  departure,  "I  am  to  go  abroad 
for  a  year,  —  for  two,  for  three,  if  I  wish.  I  think  that 
is  the  bribe  which  has  been  off«red  me.  One  must  al- 
ways be  bribed,  you  know." 

As  she  stood  at  the  window  watching  the  carriage 
drive  away,  Agnes  was  conscious  of  a  depression  which 
was  very  hard  to  bear.  The  brightness  of  her  own  at- 
mosphere seemed  to  have  become  heavy,  —  the  sun  hid 
itself  behind  the  drifting,  wintry  clouds,  — she  glanced 
around  her  room  with  a  sense  of  dreariness.  Some- 
thing carried  her  back  to  the  memories  which  were  the 
one  burden  of  her  present  life. 

"  Such  grief  cannot  enter  a  room  and  not  leave  its 
shadow  behind  it,"  she  said.  And  she  put  her  hand 
against  the  window-side,  and  leaned  her  brow  upon  it 
sadly.  It  was  curious,  she  thought,  the  moment  after, 
that  the  mere  sight  of  a  familiar  figure  should  bring 
such  a  sense  of  comfort  with  it  as  did  the  sight  of  the 
one  she  saw  approaching.  It  was  that  of  Laurence 
Arbuthnot,  who  came  with  a  business  communication 
for  Mrs.  Merriarn,  having  been  enabled,  by  chance, 
to  leave  his  work  for  an  hour.  He  held  a  roll  of  music 
in  one  hand  and  a  bunch  of  violets  in  the  other,  and 
when  he  entered  the  room  was  accompanied  by  the  fre^b 
fragrance  of  the  latter  offering. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  427 

Agnes  made  a  swift  involuntary  movement  toward 
him. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said,  "  I  could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was 
you." 

He  detected  the  emotion  in  her  manner  and  tone  at 
once. 

"  Something  has  disturbed  you,"  he  said.  "  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  have  seen  Bertha,"  she  answered,  and  the  words 
had  a  sound.of  appeal  in  them,  which  she  herself  no 
more  realized  or  understood  than  she  comprehended  the 
impulse  whichi  impelled  her  to  speak. 

"  She  has  been  here  !  She  looks  so  ill  —  so  worn. 
Everything  is  so  sad  !  I "  — 

She  stopped  and  stood  looking  at  him. 

"  Must  I  go  away  ?  "  he  said,  quietly.  "  Perhaps  you 
would  prefer  to  be  alone.  I  understand  what  you 
mean,  I  think." 

"Oh,  no!"  she  said,  impulsively,  putting  out  her 
hand.  "Don't  go.  I  am  unhappy.  It  was  —  it  was  a 
relief  to  see  you." 

And  when  she  sank  on  the  sofa,  he  took  a  seat  near 
her  and  laid  the  violets  on  her  lap,  and  there  was  a  faint 
flush  on  his  face. 

The  little  dinner,  which  was  the  first  occasion  of 
Senator  Blunders  introduction  to  the  Amory  establish- 
ment, was  a  decided  success. 

"We  will  make  it  a  success,"  Bertha  had  said.  "It 
must  be  one."  And  there  was  a  ring  in  her  voice  which 
was  a  great  relief  to  her  husband. 

"  It  will  be  one,"  he  said.  "  There  is  no  fear  of  your 
failing  when  you  begin  in  this  way."  And  his  spirits 
rose  to  such  an  extent  that  he  became  genial  and  fasci- 
nating once  more,  and  almost  forgot  his  late  trials  and 
uncertainties.  He  had  always  felt  great  confidence  i* 
Bertha. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  eventful  day  Bertha  did  not 


428  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

go  out.  She  spent  the  hours  between  luncheon  and  thi 
time  for  dressing  with  her  children.  Once,  as  h« 
passed  the  open  door  of  the  nursery,  Richard  saw  her 
sitting  upon  the  carpet,  building  a  house  of  cards, 
while  Jack,  and  Janey,  and  Meg  sat  about  her  en- 
chanted. A  braid  of  her  hair  had  become  loosened 
and  hung  over  her  shoulder ;  her  cheeks  were  flushed 
by  the  fire  ;  she  looked  almost  like  a  child  herself,  with 
her  air  of  serious  absorbed  interest  in  the  frail  structure 
growing  beneath  her  hands. 

"Won't  that  tire  you?"  Richard  asked. 

She  glanced  up  with  a  smile. 

"No,"  she  said,  "it  will  rest  me." 

He  heard  her  singing  to  them  afterward,  and  later, 
when  she  went  to  her  dressing-room,  he  heard  the 
pretty  lullaby  die  away  gradually  as  she  moved  through 
the  corridor. 

When  she  appeared  again  she  was  dressed  for  dinner, 
and  came  in  buttoning  her  glove,  and  at  the  sight  of  her 
he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  pleasure. 

"  What  a  perfect  dress  !  "  he  said.  "  What  is  the  idea  ? 
There  must  be  one." 

She  paused  and  turned  slowly  round  so  that  he  might 
obtain  the  full  effect. 

"You  should  detect  it,"  she  replied.  "It  is  meant  to 
convey  one." 

"It  has  a  kind  of  dove-like  look,"  he  said. 

She  faced  him  again. 

"  That  is  it,"  she  said,  serenely.  "  In  the  true  artist 
spirit,  I  have  attired  myself  with  a  view  to  expressing 
the  perfect  candor  and  simplicity  of  my  nature.  Should 
you  find  it  possible  to  fear  or  suspect  me  of  ulterior 
motives  -  if  you  were  a  snnator,  for  instance  ?  " 

"  Ah,  come  now  !  "  said  Richard,  not  quite  so  easily, 
"that  is  nonsense  !  You  have  no  ulterior  me  lives." 

She  opened  her  plumy,  dove-colored  fan  and  came 
nearer  him. 

"There  is  nothing  meretricious  about  me,"  she  said 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINI8TE AT/ON.  421* 

"I  am  softly  clad  in  dove  color;  a  few  clusters  of 
pansies  adorn  me ;  I  am  covered  from  throat  to  wrists  ; 
I  have  not  a  jewel  about  me.  Could  the  effect  h«. 
better?" 

"No,  it  could  not,"  he  replied,  but  suddenly  he  felt  a 
trifle  uncomfortable  again,  and  wondered  what  was 
hidden  behind  the  inscrutable  little  gaze  she  afterwards 
fixed  upon  the  fire. 

But  when  Blundel  appeared,  which  he  did  rather  early, 
he  felt  relieved  again.  Nothing  could  have  been  prettier 
than  her  greeting  of  him,  or  more  perfect  in  its  attain- 
ment of  the  object  of  setting  him  at  his  ease.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  he  was  not  entirely  at  his  ease  when 
he  entered,  his  experience  not  having  been  of  a  nature 
to  develop  in  him  any  latent  love  for  general  society. 
He  had  fought  too  hard  a  fight  to  leave  him  much  time 
to  know  women  well,  and  his  superficial  knowledge  of 
them  made  him  a  trifle  awkward,  as  it  occasionally  ren- 
ders other  men  astonishingly  bold.  In  a  party  of  men 
all  his  gifts  displayed  themselves ;  in  the  presence  of 
women  he  was  afraid  that  less  substantial  fellows  had 
the  advantage  of  him,  —  men  who  could  not  tell  half  so 
good  a  story  or  make  half  so  exhilarating  a  joke.  As 
to  this  special  dinner  he  had  not  been  particularly 
anxious  to  count  himself  among  the  guests,  and  was  not 
very  certain  as  to  how  Planefield  had  beguiled  him  into 
accepting  the  invitation.  ) 

But  ten  minutes  after  {ie  had  entered  the  room  he  be- 
gan to  feel  mollified.  Outside  the  night  was  wet  and 
unpleasant,  and  not  calculated  to  improve  a  man's  tem- 
per ;  the  parlors  glowing  with  fire-light  and  twinkling 
wax  candles  were  a  vivid  and  agreeable  contrast  to  the 
sloppy  rawness.  The  slender,  dove-colored  figure,  with 
its  soft,  trailing  draperies,  assumed  more  definitely 
pleasant  proportions,  and  in  his  vague,  inexperienced, 
middle-aged  fashion  he  felt  the  effect  of  it.  She  had  & 
nice  way,  this  little  woman,  he  decided ;  no  nonsense  or 
lira  and  graces  about  her :  an  easy  manner,  a  gay  little 


430  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

!augh.  He  did  not  remember  exactly  afterward  what  it 
was  she  said  which  first  wakened  him  up,  but  he  found 
himself  laughing  and  greatly  amused,  and  when  he  made 
a  witticism  he  felt  he  had  reason  to  be  proud  of,  the  gay 
little  peal  of  laughter  which  broke  forth  in  response  had 
the  most  amazingly  exhilarating  effect  upon  him,  and  sel 
him  upon  his  feet  for  the  evening.  Women  seldom  got 
all  the  flavor  of  his  jokes.  He  had  an  idea  that  some 
of  them  were  a  little  afraid  of  them  and  of  him,  too, 
The  genuine  mirth  in  Bertha's  unstudied  laughter  was 
like  wine  to  him,  and  was  better  than  the  guffaws  of  a 
dozen  men,  because  it  had  a  finer  and  a  novel  flavor. 
After  the  joke  and  the  laugh  the  ice  was  melted,  and  he 
knew  that  he  was  in  the  humor  to  distinguish  himself. 

Planefield  discovered  this  the  moment  he  saw  him, 
and  glanced  at  Richard,  who  was  brilliant  with  good 
spirits. 

"  She's  begun  well,"  he  said,  when  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity to  speak  to  him.  "  I  never  saw  him  in  a  better 
humor.  She's  pleased  him  somehow.  ,  Women  don't 
touch  him  usually."  \ 

"  She  will  end  better,"  said  Richard.  "  He  pleases 
her." 

He  did  not  displease  her,  at  all  events.  She  saw  the 
force  and  humor  of  his  stalwart  jokes,  and  was  im- 
pressed by  the  shrewd,  business-like  good-nature  which 
betrayed  nothing.  When  he  began  to  enjoy  himself  she 
liked  the  genuineness  of  his  enjoyment  all  the  more  be- 
cause it  was  a  personal  matter  with  him,  and  he  seemed 
to  revel  in  it. 

"He  enjoys  himself"  was  her  mental  comment, 
*  really  himself,  not  exactly  the  rest  of  us,  except  as  wa 
%timula*e  him,  and  make  him  say  good  things." 

Among  the  chief  of  her  gifts  had  always  been  counted 
the  power  of  stimulating  people,  and  making  them  say 
their  best  things,  and  she  made  the  most  of  this  powei 
now.  She  listened  with  her  brightest  look,  she  uttered 
her  little  exclamations  of  pleasure  pnd  interest  at  ex- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  431 

actly  the  right  moment,  and  the  gay  ring  of  her  spon* 
taneous  sounding  laugh  was  perfection.  Miss  Varien, 
who  was  one  of  her  guests,  sat  and  regarded  her  with 
untempered  admiration. 

"Your  wife,"  she  said  to  Amory,  in  an  undertone,  "is 
simply  incomparable.  It  is  not  necessary  to  tell  you 
that,  of  course ;  but  it  strikes  me  with  fresh  force  this 
evening.  She  really  seems  to  enjoy  things.  That  air 
of  gay,  candid  delight  is  irresistible.  It  makes  her 
seem  to  that  man  like  a  charming  little  girl  —  a  harm- 
less, bright,  sympathetic  little  girl.  How  he  likes 
her ! " 

When  she  went  in  to  dinner  with  him,  and  he  sat  by 
>er  side,  he  liked  her  still  more.  He  had  never  been 
in  better  spirits  in  his  life ;  he  had  never  said  so 
many  things  worth  remembering ;  he  had  never  heard 
such  sparkling  and  vivacious  talk  as  went  on  round  this 
particular  table.  It  never  paused  or  lagged.  There 
was  Amory,  all  alight  and  stirred  by  every  conversa- 
tional ripple  which  passed  him  ;  there  was  Miss  Varien, 
scintillating  and  casting  off  showers  of  sparks  in  the 
prettiest  and  most  careless  fashion  ;  there  was  Laurence 
Arbuthnot,  doing  his  share  without  any  apparent  effort, 
and  appreciating  his  neighbors  to  the  full ;  there  was 
Mrs.  Sylvestre,  her  beautiful  eyes  making  speech 
almost  superfluous,  and  Mrs.  Merriam,  occasionally 
casting  into  the  pool  some  neatly  weighted  pebble, 
which  sent  its  circles  to  the  shore ;  and  in  the  midst  of 
tke  coruscations  Blundel  found  himself,  somehow,  do- 
ing quite  his  portion  of  the  illumination.  Really  these 
people  and  their  dinner-party  pleased  him  wonderfully 
well,  and  he  was  far  from  sorry  that  he  had  come,  and 
far  from  sure  that  he  should  not  come  again  if  he  were 
asked.  He  was  shrewd  enough,  too,  to  see  how  mu'h 
the  success  of  everything  depended  upon  his  own  litue 
companion  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and,  respecting  suc- 
cess beyond  all  things,  after  the  manner  of  his  kind,  he 
liked  her  all  the  better  for  it.  There  wa»  something 


432  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

about  her  which,  as  Miss  Varien  had  said,  made  him 
feel  that  she  was  like  a  bright,  sympathetic  little  girl,  and 
engendered  a  feeling  of  fatherly  patronage  which  waa 
entirely  comfortable.  But,  though  she  rather  led  others 
to  talk  than  talked  herself,  he  noticed  that  she  said  a 
sharp  thing  now  and  then ;  and  he  liked  that,  too,  and 
was  greatly  amused  by  it.  He  liked  women  to  be 
sharp,  if  they  were  not  keen  enough  to  interfere  with 
masculine  prerogatives.  There  was  only  one  person  in 
the  company  he  did  not  find  exhilarating,  and  that  was 
a  large,  brown-faced  fellow,  who  sat  next  to  Mrs.  Mer- 
riam,  and  said  less  than  might  have  been  expected  of 
him,  though,  when  he  spoke,  his  remarks  were  well 
enough  in  their  way.  Blundel  mentioned  him  afterward 
to  Bertha  whep  they  returned  to  the  parlor. 

"That  coloiel,  who  is  he?"  he  asked  her.  "I  didn't 
catch  his  name  exactly.  Handsome  fellow ;  but  he'd  be 
handsomer  if"  — 

"  It  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  stop  you,"  said  Bertha, 
"  and  tell  you  that  he  is  a  sort  of  cousin  of  mine,  and  his 
perfections  are  such  as  I  regard  with  awe.  His  name  is 
Colonel  Tredennis,  and  you  have  read  of  him  in  the 
newspapers." 

"  What ! "  he  exclaimed,  turning  his  sharp  little  eyes 
upon  Tredennis,  —  "the  Indian  man  ?  I'm  glad  you  told 
me  that.  I  want  to  talk  to  him."  And,  an  opportunity 
being  given  him,  he  proceeded  to  do  so  with  much  ani- 
mation, ruffling  his  stiff  hair  up  at  intervals  in  his  in- 
terest, his  little  eyes  twinkling  like  those  of  some  alert 
auimal. 

He  left  the  house  late  and  in  the  best  of  humors.  He 
hud  forgotten  for  the  time  being  all  questions  of  billi 
and  subsidies.  Nothing  had  occurred  to  remind  him 
of  such  subjects.  Their  very  existence  seemed  a  trifle 
problematical,  or,  rather,  perhaps  it  seemed  desirable 
that  it  should  be  so. 

"I  feel,"  he  said  to  Planefield,  as  he  was  shrugging 
himself  into  his  overcoat,  "as  if  I  had  rathei  missed  it 
by  not  coming  here  before." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  433 

w  You  were  asked,"  answered  Planefield. 

"So  I  was,"  he  replied,  attacking  the  top  button  of 
the  overcoat.  w  Well,  the  next  time  I  am  asked  I  sup- 
pose I  shall  come." 

Then  he  gave  his  attention  to  the  rest  of  the  buttons. 

"A  man  in  public  life  ought  to  see  all  sides  of  his 
public,"  he  said,  having  disposed  of  the  last  one.  "  Said 
some  good  things,  didn't  they?  The  little  woman  isn't 
without  a  mind  of  her  own,  either.  When  is  it  she  re- 
ceives ?  " 

"Thursdays,"  said  Planefield. 

"Ah,  Thursdays." 

And  they  went  out  in  company. 

Her  guests  having  all  departed,  Bertha  remained  for 
a  few  minutes  in  the  parlor.  Arbuthnot  and  Tredennis 
went  out  last,  and  as  the  door  closed  upon  them  she 
looked  at  Richard. 

"Well?  "she  said. 

"  Well !  "  exclaimed  Richard.  "  It  could  not  have 
been  better !  " 

"Couldn't  it?"  she  said,  looking  down  a  little  medi- 
tatively. 

"  No,"  he  responded,  with  excellent  good  cheer,  "and 
you  see  how  simple  it  was,  and  —  and  how  unnecessary 
it  is  to  exaggerate  it  and  call  it  by  unpleasant  names. 
What  we  want  is  merely  to  come  in  contact  with  these 
people,  and  show  them  how  perfectly  harmless  we  are, 
and  that  when  the  time  comes  they  may  favor  us  with- 
out injury  to  themselves  or  any  one  else.  That's  it  in  a 
nutshell." 

"  We  always  say  *  us,'  don't  we  ?  "  said  Bertha, — "as  if 
we  were  part-proprietors  of  the  Westoria  lands  our- 
selves. It  is  a  little  confusing,  don't  you  think  so?" 

She  paused  and  looked  up  with  one  of  her  sudden 
smiles. 

w  Still  I  don't  feel  exactly  sure  that  I  have  been  — 
but  no,  I  am  not  to  call  it  lobbying,  am  I?  What  must 
I  call  it?  It  really  ought  to  have  a  name." 


434  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"  Don't  call  it  anything,"  said  Richard,  faintly  con- 
scious of  his  dubiousness  again. 

*  Why,  whit  a  good  idea  !  "  she  answered.  w  What  a 
good  way  of  getting  round  a  difficulty  —  not  to  give  it 
R  name !  It  almost  obliterates  it,  doesn't  it?  It  is  an 
actual  inspiration.  We  won't  call  it  anything.  There 
is  so  much  in  a  name  —  too  much,  on  the  whole,  really. 
But — without  giving  it  a  name — I  have  behaved  pretty 
well  and  advanced  our — your — whose  interests?" 

"  Everybody's,"  he  replied,  with  an  effort  at  light- 
ness. "Mine  particularly.  I  own  that  my  view  of  the 
matter  is  a  purely  selfish  one.  There  is  a  career  before 
me,  you  know,  if  all  goes  well." 

He  detected  at  once  the  expression  of  gentleness 
which  softened  her  eyes  as  she  watched  him. 

"  You  always  wanted  a  career,  didn't  you?"  she  said. 

"It  isn't  pleasant,"  he  said,  "  for  a  man  to  know  that 
he  is  not  a  success." 

"  If  I  can  give  you  your  career,"  she  said,  "  you  shall 
have  it,  Richard.  It  is  a  simpler  thing  than  I  thought, 
after  all."  And  she  went  upstairs  to  her  room,  stopping 
on  the  way  to  spend  a  few  minutes  in  the  nursery. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  435 


CHAPTER  XXXH. 

THE  professor  sat  in  his  favorite  chair  by  his  library 
fire,  an  open  volume  on  his  knee,  and  his  after-dinner 
glass  of  wine,  still  unfinished,  on  the  table  near  him.  He 
had  dined  a  couple  of  hours  ago  with  Mr.  Arbuthnot, 
who  had  entertained  him  very  agreeably  and  had  not 
long  since  left  him  to  present  himself  upon  some  social 
scene. 

It  was  of  his  departed  guest  that  he  was  thinking  as 
he  pondered,  and  of  certain  plans  he  had  on  hand  for 
his  ultimate  welfare,  and  his  thoughts  so  deeply  occu- 
pied him  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  the  door- 
bell, which  rang  as  he  sat,  nor  notice  any  other  sound 
until  the  door  of  the  room  opened  and  some  one  en- 
tered. He  raised  his  head  and  looked  around  then, 
uttering  a  slight  ejaculation  of  surprise. 

"  Why,  Bertha  ! "  he  said.  "  My  dear !  This  is  un- 
expected." 

He  paused  and  gave  her  one  of  his  gently  curious 
looks.  She  had  thrown  her  cloak  off  as  she  came  near 
him,  and  something  in  her  appearance  attracted  his 
attention. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  slowly,  w  you  look  to-night  as 
you  did  years  ago.  I  am  reminded  of  the  time  when 
Philip  first  came  to  us.  I  wonder  why?" 

There  was  a  low  seat  near  his  side,  and  she  came  and 
took  it. 

"It  is  the  dress,"  she  said.  "I  was  looking  over 
some  things  I  had  laid  aside,  and  found  it.  I  put  it  on 
for  old  acquaintance'  sake.  I  have  never  worn  it  since 
then.  Perhaps  I  hoped  it  would  make  me  feel  like  a 
girl  again." 

Her   tone   was   very  quiet,   her  whole  manner  was 


436  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

quiet ;  the  dress  was  simplicity  itself.  A  little  iac« 
kerchief  was  knotted  about  her  throat. 

ff  That  is  a  very  feminine  idea,"  remarked  the  profes- 
sor, seeming  to  give  it  careful  attention.  "  Peculiarly 
feminine,  I  should  say.  And  —  does  it,  my  dear?" 

"Not  quite,"  she  answered.  "A  little.  When  I 
first  put  it  on  and  stood  before  the  glass  I  forgot  a  good 
many  things  for  a  few  moments,  and  then,  suddenly,  I 
heard  the  children's  voices  in  the  nursery,  and  Richard 
came  in,  and  Bertha  Herrick  was  gone.  You  know  I 
was  Bertha  Herrick  when  I  wore  this — Bertha  Herrick, 
thinking  of  her  first  party." 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  he  responded,  "I  —  I  remember." 

There  were  a  few  moments  of  silence,  in  which 
he  looked  abstractedly  thoughtful,  but  presently  he 
bestirred  himself. 

w  By  the  by,"  he  said,  "  that  reminds  me.  Didn't  I 
understand  that  there  was  a  great  party  somewhere 
to-night?  Mr.  Arbuthnot  left  me  to  go  to  it,  I  think. 
I  thought  there  was  a  reason  for  my  surprise  at  seeing 
you.  That  was  it.  Surely  you  should  have  been  at 
the  great  party  instead  of  here." 

"Well,"  she  replied,  "I  suppose  I  should,  but  for 
some  curious  accident  or  other  —  I  don't  know  what  the 
accident  is  or  how  it  happened  —  I  should  have  had  an 
invitation  —  of  course  if  it  had  chanced  to  reach  me ;  but 
something  has  occurred  to  prevent  it  doing  so,  I  sup- 
pose. Such  things  happen,  you  know.  To  all  intents 
and  purposes  I  have  not  been  invited,  so  I  could  not  go. 
And  I  am  very  glad.  I  would  rather  be  here." 

"I  would  rather  have  you  here,"  he  returned,  "if  such 
seclusion  pleases  you.  But  I  can  hardly  imagine,  my 
dear,  how  the  party  "  — 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  caressingly. 

"It  cannot  be  an  entire  success,"  she  said.  "It  won't, 
in  my  absence ;  but  misfortunes  befall  even  the  mag- 
nificent and  prosperous,  and  the  party  must  console 
itself.  I  like  to  be  here  —  I  like  very  rauch  to  be  here/ 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  437 

He  glanced  at  her  gray  dress  again. 

"  Bertha  Herrick  would  have  preferred  the  party,"  be 
remarked. 

"Bertha  Amory  is  wiser,"  she  said.  "We  will  be 
quiet  together  —  and  happy." 

They  were  very  quiet.  The  thought  occurred  to  the 
professor  several  times  during  the  evening.  She  kept 
ner  seat  near  him,  and  talked  to  him,  speaking,  he 
noticed,  principally  of  her  children  and  of  the  past ;  the 
time  she  had  spent  at  home  before  her  marriage  seemed 
to  be  present  in  her  mind. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said  once,  thoughtfully,  "what  sort 
of  girl  I  was  ?  I  can  only  remember  that  I  was  such 
a  happy  girl !  Do  you  remember  that  I  was  a  specially 
self-indulgent  or  frivolous  one  ?  But  I  am  afraid  you 
would  not  tell  me,  if  you  did." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  in  response,  "you  were  a  natural, 
simple,  joyous  creature,  and  a  great  pleasure  to  us." 

She  gave  his  hand  a  little  pressure. 

"/can  remember  that  you  were  always  good  to  me," 
she  said.  "  I  used  to  think  you  were  a  little  curious 
about  me,  and  wondered  what  I  would  do  in  the  future. 
Now  it  is  my  turn  to  wonder  if  I  am  at  all  what  you 
thought  I  would  be?" 

He  did  not  reply  at  once,  and  then  spoke  slowly. 

"  There  seemed  so  many  possibilities,"  he  said.  "  Yes ; 
I  thought  it  possible  that  you  might  be  —  what  you 
are." 

It  was  as  he  said  this  that  there  returned  to  his  mind 
the  thought  which  nad  occupied  it  before  her  enhance. 
He  had  been  thinking  then  of  something  he  wished  to 
tell  her,  before  she  heard  it  from  other  quarters,  and 
which  he  felt  he  could  tel  her  at  no  more  fitting  time 
than  when  they  were  alone.  It  was  something  relating 
to  Laurence  Arbuthnot,  and,  curiously  enough,  she 
paved  the  way  for  it  by  mentioning  him  herself. 

"Did  you  way  Laurence  was  here  to-night?"  she 
asked. 


438  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  he  was  so  good  as  to  dine  with 
me." 

"  He  would  say  that  you  were  so  good  as  to  invite 
him,"  she  said.  "  He  is  very  fond  of  coming  here." 

"  I  should  miss  him  very  much,"  he  returned,  "  if  he 
should  go  away." 

She  looked  up  quickly,  attracted  by  his  manner. 

"  But  there  is  no  likelihood  of  his  going  away,"  she 
said. 

"  I  think,"  he  answered,  w  that  there  may  be,  and  I 
wished  to  speak  to  you  about  it." 

He  refrained  from  looking  at  her ;  he  even  delicately 
withdrew  his  hand,  so  that  if  hers  should  lose  its  steadi- 
ness he  might  be  unconscious  of  it. 

"Go  away!"  she  exclaimed, — "from  Washington? 
Laurence  I  Why  should  you  think  so?  I  cannot 
imagine  such  a  thing." 

"He  does  not  imagine  it  himself  yet,"  he  replied. 
"/  am  going  to  suggest  it  to  him." 

Her  hand  was  still  upon  his  knee,  and  he  felt  her 
start. 

"  You  are  !  "  she  said ;  "  why  and  how  ?  Do  you  think 
he  will  go?  I  do  not  believe  he  will." 

"I  am  not  sure  that  he  will,"  he  answered,  "but  I 
hope  so;  and  what  I  mean  is  that  I  think  it  may  be 
possible  to  send  him  abroad." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  from  his  knee. 

"  He  won't  go,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  sure  of  it." 

He  went  on  to  explain  himself,  still  not  looking  at 
her. 

"He  is  wasting  his  abilities,"  he  said;  "he  is  wast- 
ing his  yotith ;  the  position  he  is  in  is  absurdly  insignifi- 
cant ;  it  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  used,  with  right  effect, 
the  little  influence  I  possess,  there  might  finally  be  ob- 
tained for  him  some  position  abroad,  which  would  be  at 
least  something  better,  and  might  possibly  open  a  way 
for  him  in  the  future.  I  spoke  to  the  Secretary  of 
State  about  it,  and  he  was  very  kind,  and  appeared  inter- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  43U 

ested.     It  seems  very  possible,  even  probable,  that  my 
hopes  will  be  realized." 

For  a  few  seconds  she  sat  still ;  then  she  said,  at  - 
etractedly : 

"  It  would  be  very  strange  to  be  obliged  to  live  our 
lives  without  Laurence ;  they  would  not  be  the  same 
lives  at  all.  Still,  I  suppose  it  would  be  best  for  him  ; 
but  it  would  be  hard  to  live  without  Laurence.  I  don't 
like  to  think  of  It." 

In  spite  ©f  his  intention  not  to  do  so,  he  found  him- 
self turning  to  look  at  her.  There  had  been  surprise  in 
her  voice,  and  now  there  was  sadness,  but  there  was  no 
agitation,  no  uncontrollable  emotion. 

" Can  it  be,"  he  thought,  " that  she  is  getting  over  it? 
What  does  it  mean?" 

She  turned  and  met  his  eyes. 

"  But,  whether  it  is  for  the  best  or  not,"  she  said,  "  I 
don't  believe  he  will  go." 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "you  speak  as  if  there  was  a 
reason." 

"I  think  there  is  a  reason,"  she  answered,  "and  it  is 
a  strong  one." 

"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

"  There  is  some  one  he  is  beginning  to  be  fond  of," 
she  replied;  "that  is  the  reason." 

He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

"Some  one  he  is  beginning  to  be  fond  of?"  he  re 
peated. 

"I  don't  know  how  it  will  end,"  she  said.  "I  am 
sometimes  afraid  it  can  only  end  sadly,  but  there  is  some 
one  he  would  find  it  hard  to  leave,  I  am  sure." 

The  professor  gradually  rose  in  his  chair  until  he  was 
Bitting  upright. 

"I  wish,"  he  said,  "that  you  would  tell  me  who 
it  is." 

"I  do  not  think  he  would  mind  your  knowing,"  she 
answered.  "It  seems  strange  you  have  not  seen  It  is 
Agnes  Sylvestre." 


440  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

The  professor  sank  back  in  his  chair,  and  ..ookcd  at 
the  bed  of  coals  in  the  grate. 

"Agnes  /% Ivestre  !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "Agnes  Sylvestre  !' 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  and  in  one  sense  it  is  very  hard 
on  him  that  it  should  be  Agnes  Sylvestre.  After  all 
these  years,  when  he  has  steadily  kept  himself  free 
from  all  love  affairs,  and  been  so  sure  that  nothing 
could  tempt  him,  it  cannot  be  easy  for  him  to  know  that 
he  loves  some  one  who  has  everything  he  has  not  —  all 
the  things  he  feels  he  never  will  have.  He  is  very 
proud  and  very  unrelenting  in  his  statement  of  his  own 
circumstances,  and  he  won't  try  to  glaze  them  over  when 
he  compares  them  with  hers.  He  is  too  poor,  she  is  too 
rich  —  even  if  she  loved  him." 

"  Even  !  "  said  the  professor.  "  Is  it  your  opinion 
that  she  does  not  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered.  "  It  has  seemed  to 
me  more  probable  that  —  that  she  liked  Colonel  Tre- 
dennis." 

"I  thought  so,"  said  the  professor.  "I  must  confess 
that  I  thought  so ;  though,  perhaps,  that  may  have 
been  because  my  feeling  for  him  is  so  strong,  and  I 
have  seen  that  he  "  — 

"That  he  was  fond  of  her?"  Bertha  put  in  as  he 
paused  to  reflect. 

"I  thought  so,"  he  said  again.  "I  thought  I  was 
sure  of  it.  He  sees  her  often ;  he  thinks  of  her  fre- 
quently, it  is  plain ;  he  speaks  of  her  to  me ;  he  seea 
every  charm  and  grace  in  her.  I  have  never  heard  him 
gpeak  of  any  other  woman  so." 

"  It  would  be  a  very  suitable  marriage,"  said  Bertha  ; 
w  I  have  felt  that  from  the  first.  There  is  no  one  more 
beautiful  than  Agnes  —  no  one  sweeter  —  no  one  more 
fit"  — 

She  pushed  her  seat  back  from  the  hearth  and  ros« 
troin  it. 

w  The  fire  is  too  warm,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  sit- 
ting before  it  too  long." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  441 

There  was  some  ice-water  upon  a  side  table  and  she 
went  to  it  and  poured  out  a  glass,  and  drank  it  slowly. 
Then  she  took  a  seat  by  the  centre-table  and  spoko 
again,  as  she  idly  turned  over  the  leaves  of  a  magazine 
without  looking  at  it. 

"When  first  Agnes  came  here,"  she  said,  "I  thought 
of  it.  I  remember  that  when  I  presented  Philip  to  her 
I  watched  to  see  if  she  impressed  him  as  she  does  most 
people." 

"She  did,"  said  the  professor.  "I  remember  his 
speaking  of  it  afterward,  and  saying  what  a  charm  hers 
was,  and  that  her  beauty  must  touch  a  man's  best 
nature." 

"  That  was  very  good,"  said  Bertha,  faintly  smiling. 
"And  it  was  very  like  him.  And  since  then,"  she 
added,  "  you  say  he  has  spoken  of  her  often  in  the  same 
way  and  as  he  speaks  of  no  one  else?  " 

"Again  and  again,"  answered  the  professor.  "The 
truth  is,  my  dear,  I  am  fond  of  speaking  of  her  myself, 
and  have  occasionally  led  him  in  that  direction.  I 
have  wished  for  him  what  you  have  wished." 

"And  we  have  both  of  us,"  she  said,  half  sadly, 
"been  unkind  to  poor  Laurence." 

She  closed  the  magazine. 

"Perhaps  he  will  go,  after  all,"  she  said.  "He  may 
see  that  it  is  best.  He  may  be  glad  to  go  before  the 
year  is  ended." 

She  left  her  book  and  her  chair. 

"I  think  I  must  go  now,"  she  said,  "I  am  a  little 
tired." 

He  thought  that  she  looked  so,  and  the  shadow  which 
for  a  moment  had  half  lifted  itself  fell  again. 

"  No,"  he  thought,  "  she  has  not  outlived  it,  and  this 
is  more  bitter  for  her  than  the  rest.  It  is  only  natural 
that  it  should  be  more  bitter." 

When  he  got  up  to  bid  her  good-night  she  put  a  hand 
upon  either  of  his  shoulders  and  kissed  him. 

"  I  am  glad  I  was   not  invited  to  the  grand  party, 


442  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

dear,"  she  said,  "I  have  liked  this  better.  It  has  been 
far  better  for  me." 

There  were  only  a  few  yards  of  space  between  her 
father's  house  and  her  own,  and  in  a  few  seconds  she 
had  ascended  the  steps  and  entered  the  door.  As  slfl 
did  so  she  heard  Richard  in  the  parlor,  speaking  rapidly 
and  vehemently,  and,  entering,  found  that  he  was  talk- 
ing to  Colonel  Tredennis.  The  colonel  was  standing  at 
one  end  of  the 'room,  as  if  he  had  turned  around  with 
an  abrupt  movement;  Richard  was  lying  full  length 
upon  a  sofa,  looking  uneasy  and  excited,  his  cushions 
tumbled  about  him.  They  ceased  speaking  the  moment 
they  saw  her,  and  there  was  an  odd  pause,  noticing 
which  she  came  forward  and  spoke  with  an  effort  at  ap- 
pearing at  ease. 

"Do  you  know  that  this  seems  like  contention?"  she 
said.  w  Are  you  quarrelling  with  Richard,  Colonel  Tre- 
dennis, or  is  he  quarrelling  with  you?  And  why  are 
you  not  at  the  reception?" 

"  We  are  quarrelling  with  each  other  violently,"  said 
Richard,  with  a  half  laugh.  "You  arrived  barely  in 
time  to  prevent  our  coming  to  blows.  And  why  are 
you  not  at  the  reception  ?  " 

Bertha  turned  to  Tredennis,  who  for  a  moment 
seemed  to  have  been  struck  dumb  by  the  sight  of  her. 
The  memories  the  slender  gray  figure  had  brought  to 
the  professor  rushed  back  upon  him  with  a  force  that 
staggered  him.  It  was  as  if  the  ghost  of  something  dead 
had  suddenly  appeared  before  him  and  he  was  compelled 
to  hold  himself  as  if  he  did  not  see  it.  The  little  gray 
gown,  the  carelessly  knotted  kerchief,  —  it  seemed  so 
terrible  to  see  them  and  to  be  forced  to  realize  through 
them  how  changed  she  was.  He  had  never  seen  her  look 
so  ill  and  fragile  as  she  did  when  she  turned  to  him  and 
spoke  in  her  quiet,  unemotional  voice. 

"This  is  the  result  of  political  machination,"  she  said. 
"  He  has  forgotten  that  we  were  not  invited.  Being 
absorbed  in  affairs  of  state  he  no  longer  keeps  tm  account 
of  the  doings  of  the  giddy  throng." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  443 

Then  he  recovered  himself. 

"You  were  not  invited,"  he  said.  "Isn't  there  some 
mistake  about  that  ?  I  thought "  — 

"Your  impression  naturally  was  that  we  were  tho 
foundation-stone  of  all  social  occasions,"  she  responded; 
*  but  this  time  they  have  dispensed  with  us.  We  were 
not  invited." 

"  Say  that  you  did  not  receive  your  invitation,"  put 
in  Richard,  restlessly.  "The  other  way  of  stating  it  is 
nonsense." 

She  paused  an  instant,  as  if  his  manner  suggested  a 
new  thought  to  her. 

"I  wonder,"  she  said,  slowly,  "if  there  could  be  a 
reason ;    but  no,  I  think  that  is  impossible.     It  must 
have  been  an  accident.     But*  you,"  she  added  to  Tre 
dennis,  "  have  not  told  me  why  you  are  not  with  the  rest 
of  the  world." 

"  I  eame  away  early,"  he  answered.  "  I  was  there  foi 
an  hour." 

He  was  glad  that  she  did  not  sit  down ;  he  wished 
that  she  would  go  away;  it  would  be  better  if  she 
would  go  away  and  leave  them  to  themselves  again. 

"It  was  very  gay,  I  suppose,"  she  said.  "And  you 
saw  Agnes  ?  " 

"I  have  just  left  her,"  he  replied. 

"  You  ought  to  have  stayed,"  she  said,  turning  away 
with  a  smile.  "  It  would  have  been  better  than  quarrel- 
ling with  Richard." 

And  she  went  out  of  the  room  and  left  them  together, 
as  he  had  told  himself  it  would  be  best  she  should. 

He  did  not  look  at  her  as  she  ascended  the  staircase  ,* 
fca  stood  with  his  back  to  the  open  door,  and  did  not 
speak  until  he'  heard  her  go  into  the  room  above  them. 
Then  he  addressed  Richard. 

"  Do  you  understand  me  now  ?  "  he  said,  sternly.  "  This 
is  the  beginning  !  " 

"The  beginning!"  exclaimed  Richard,  with  a  half 
frantic  gesture.  "  If  this  is  the  beginning  —  and  things 
KO  wrong  —  imagine  what  the  end  will  be ! " 


•444  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

The  room  Bertha  had  entered  was  the  nursery.  In 
the  room  opening  out  of  it  Jack  and  Janey  slept  in 
their  small  beds.  Upon  the  hearth-rug  lay  a  broken 
toy.  She  bent  to  pick  it  up,  and  afterward  stood  a 
moment  holding  it  in  her  hand  without  seeing  it ;  she 
still  held  it  as  she  sank  into  a  chair  which  was  near 
her. 

"  I  will  stay  here  a  while,"  she  said.  "  This  is  the 
best  place  for  me." 

For  a  few  minutes  she  sat  quite  still ;  something  like 
a  stupor  had  settled  upon  her ;  she  was  thinking  in  a 
blind,  disconnected  way  of  Agnes  Sylvestre.  Every- 
thing would  be  right  at  last.  Agnes  would  be  happy. 
This  was  what  she  had  wished  —  what  she  had  intended 
from  the  first  —  when  she '  had  brought  them  together. 
It  was  she  who  had  brought  them  together.  And 
this  was  the  plan  she  had  had  in  her  mind  when 
she  had  done  it ;  and  she  had  known  what  it  would 
cost  her  even  then.  And  then  there  came  back  to  her 
the  memory  of  the  moment  when  she  had  turned  away 
from  them  to  pour  out  Laurence's  coffee  with  hands  she 
could  not  hold  still,  and  whose  tremor  he  saw  and  un- 
derstood. Poor  Laurence  !  he  must  suffer  too  !  Poor 
Laurence  ! 

She  looked  down  suddenly  at  the  broken  toy  in  her 
hand. 

"I  will  stay  here  more,"  she  said.  "It  is  better 
here.  There  is  nothing  else  I  And  if  I  were  a  good 
woman  I  should  want  nothing  else.  If  I  had  only  not 
spoken  to  Agnes,  —  that  was  the  mistake;  if  she  will 
only  forget  it !  Some  one  should  be  happy  —  some 
one  I  It  will  be  Agnes." 

She  got  up  and  went  into  the  children's  room,  and 
knelt  down  by  Janey 's  bed,  laying  the  toy  on  the  cover- 
let. She  put  her  arms  around  the  child  and  spoke  hei 
name. 

"  Janey  !  "  she  said.     "  Janey  ! " 

The  child  stirred,  opened  her  eyes,  and  put  ED  arm 
sleepily  about  her  neck. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  said  my  prayers,"  she  murmured.  "God  bless 
mamma  and  papa  —  and  everybody  I  God  bless  Uncle 
Philip!" 

Bertha  laid  her  face  near  her  upon  the  pillow. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  brokenly.  "  You  belong  to  me  and 
f  belong  to  you.  I  will  stay  here.  Janey  —  with  you. " 


446  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXXm. 

SOMETIMES  during  the  winter,  when  she  glancei 
aiound  her  parlor  on  the  evenings  of  her  receptions 
Bertha  felt  as  if  she  was  in  a  waking  dream, — so  mani 
people  of  whom  she  seemed  to  know  nothing  wen 
gathered  about  her ;  she  saw  strange  faces  on  every  side 
a  new  element  had  appeared,  which  was  gradually 
crowding  out  the  old,  and  she  herself  felt  that  she  was 
almost  a  stranger  in  it.  Day  by  day,  and  by  almos 
imperceptible  degrees  at  first,  various  mysterioui 
duties  had  devolved  upon  her.  She  had  found  her 
self  calling  at  one  house  because  the  head  of  it  was  j 
member  of  a  committee,  at  another  because  its  mistress 
was  a  person  whose  influence  over  her  husband  it  woulc 
be  well  to  consider ;  she  had  issued  an  invitation  her< 
because  the  recipients  must  be  pleased,  another  ther< 
because  somebody  was  to  be  biassed  in  the  right  direc 
lion.  The  persons  thus  to  be  pleased  and  biassed  wen 
by  no  means  invariably  interesting.  There  was  a  stal- 
wart Westerner  or  so,  who  made  themselves  almost  toe 
readily  at  home ;  an  occasional  rigid  New  Englander 
who  suspected  a  lack  of  purpose  in  the  atmosphere  ;  anc 
a  stray  Southerner,  who  exhibited  a  tendency  towards  i 
large  and  rather  exhaustive  gallantry.  As  a  rule,  too 
Bertha  was  obliged  to  admit  that  she  found  the  mei 
more  easily  entertained  than  the  women,  who  were 
most  of  them  new  to  their  surroundings,  and  private!} 
determined  to  do  themselves  credit  and  not  be  imposec 
upon  by  appearances  ;  and  when  this  was  not  the  case 
were  either  timorously  overpowered  by  a  sense  of  theii 
inadequacy  to  the  situation,  or  calmly  intrenched  behinc 
•  shield  of  impassive  ccmposure,  more  discouraging  thai 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  447 

all  else.  It  was  not  always  easy  to  enliven  such  ma- 
terial :  to  be  always  ready  with  the  right  thing  to  say 
and  do ;  to  understand,  as  by  inspiration,  the  intricacies 
of  every  occasion  and  the  requirements  of  every  mental 
condition,  and  while  Bertha  spared  no  effort,  and  used 
her  every  gift  to  the  best  of  her  ability,  the  result,  even 
when  comparatively  successful,  was  rather  productive 
of  exhaustion,  mental  and  physical. 

"They  don't  care  about  me,"  she  said  to  Arbuthnot 
one  night,  with  a  rueful  laugh,  as  she  looked  around  her. 
"  And  I  am  always  afraid  of  their  privately  suspecting 
that  I  don't  care  about  them.  Sometimes  when  I  look 
at  them  I  cannot  help  being  overpowered  by  a  sense  of 
there  being  a  kind  of  ludicrousness  in  it  all.  Do  you 
know,  nearly  every  one  of  them  has  a  reason  for  being 
here,  and  it  is  never  by  any  chance  connected  with  my 
reason  for  inviting  them.  I  could  give  you  some  of  the 
reasons.  Shall  I?  Some  of  them  are  feminine  reasons, 
and  some  of  them  are  masculine.  That  woman  at  the 
end  of  the  sofa — the  thin,  eager-looking  one — comes 
because  she  wishes  to  accustom  herself  to  society.  Her 
husband  is  a  "rising  man,"  and  she  is  in  love  with  him, 
and  has  a  hungry  desire  to  keep  pace  with  him.  The 
woman  she  is  talking  to  has  a  husband  who  wants  some- 
thing Senator  Planefield  may  be  induced  to  give  him  — 
and  Senator  Planefield  is  on  his  native  heath  here  ;  that 
showy  little  Southern  widow  has  a  large  claim  against 
the  government,  and  comes  because  she  sees  people  she 
thinks  it  best  to  know.  She  is  wanted  because  she  has 
a  favorite  cousin  who  is  given  patriotically  to  opposing 
all  measures  not  designed  to  benefit  the  South.  It  is 
rather  fantastic  when  you  reflect  upon  it,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  what  I  think  about  it  without  asking," 
answered  Arbuthnot. 

"Yes,  you  have  told  me,"  was  her  response  ;  "but  it 
will  be  all  over  before  long,  and  then — Ah!  there  is 
Senator  Blundel !  Do  you  know,  it  is  always  a  relief 
to  me  when  he  comes ; "  and  she  went  toward  him  with  • 


448  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

brighter  look  than  Arbuthnot  had  seen  her  wear  at  an 
time  during  the  entire  evening. 

It  had  taken  her  some  time  herself  to  decide  why 
was  that  she  liked  Blundel  and  felt  at  ease  with  him ;  1 
fact,  up  to  the  present  period  she  had  scarcely  done  moi 
than  decide  that  she  did  like  him.  She  had  not  foun 
his  manner  become  more  polished  as  their  acquaintanc 
progressed ;  he  was  neither  gallant  nor  accomplished 
he  was  always  rather  full  of  himself,  in  a  genuine,  mas 
culine  way.  He  was  blunt,  and  by  no  means  tactful 
but  she  had  never  objected  to  him  from  the  first,  an 
after  a  while  she  had  become  conscious  of  feeling  relie: 
as  she  had  put  it  to  Arbuthnot,  when  his  strong,  rathe 
aggressive,  personality  presented  itself  upon  the  scene 
He  was  not  difficult  to  entertain,  at  least.  Finding  i 
her  the  best  of  listeners  he  entertained  himself  by  tall 
ing  to  her,  and  by  making  sharp  jokes,  at  which  the 
both  laughed  with  equal  appreciation.  He  knew  wh* 
to  talk  about  too,  and  what  subjects  to  joke  on ;  anc 
however  apparently  communicative  his  mood  might  be 
his  opinions  were  always  kept  thriftily  in  hand. 

"He  seems  to  talk  a  good  deal,"  Richard  said,  testily 
"  but,  after  all,  you  don't  find  out  much  of  what  he  reall 
thinks." 

Bertha  had  discovered  this  early  in  their  acquaintance 
If  the  object  in  making  the  house  attractive  to  him  wa 
that  he  might  be  led  to  commit  himself  in  any  way  dui 
ing  his  visits,  that  object  was  scarcely  attained.  Whe 
at  last  it  appeared  feasible  to  discuss  the  Westoria  land 
project  in  his  presence,  he  showed  no  unwillingness  t 
listen  or  to  ask  questions ;  but,  the  discussion  being  i 
an  end,  if  notes  had  been  compared  no  one  could  hav 
said  that  he  had  taken  either  side  of  the  question. 

"He's  balancing  things,"  Planefield  said.  "  I  told  yo 
he  would  do  it.  You  ma}r  trust  him  not  to  speak  unt 
he  has  made  up  his  mind  which  side  of  the  scale  th 
weight  is  on." 

When  these  discussions  were  being  carried  on  Berth 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  449 

had  a  fancy  that  he  was  more  interested  than  he  ap- 
peared outwardly.  Several  times  she  had  observed 
that  he  asked  her  questions  afterward  which  proved 
that  no  word  had  dropped  on  his  ear  unheeded,  and 
that  he  had,  for  some  reason  best  known  to  himself, 
reflected  upon  all  he  had  heard.  But  their  acquaintance 
had  a  side  entirely  untouched  by  worldly  machinations, 
and  it  was  this  aspect  of  it  which  Bertha  liked.  There 
was  something  homely  and  genuine  about  it.  He  paid 
her  no  compliments ;  he  even  occasionally  found  fault 
with  her  habits,  and  what  he  regarded  as  the  unneces- 
sary conventionality  of  some  of  her  surroundings ;  but 
his  good-natured  egotism  never  offended  her.  A 
widower  without  family,  and  immersed  in  political  busi- 
ness, he  knew  little  of  the  comforts  of  home  life.  He 
lived  in  two  or  three  rooms,  full  of  papers,  books,  and 
pigeon-holes,  and  took  his  meals  at  a  hotel.  He  found 
this  convenient,  if  not  luxurious,  and  more  than  conven- 
ience it  had  never  yet  occurred  to  him  to  expect  or 
demand.  But  he  was  not  too  dull  to  appreciate  the  good 
which  fell  in  his  way  ;  and  after  spending  an  hour  with 
the  Amorys  on  two  or  three  occasions,  when  he  had  left 
the  scene  of  his  political  labors  fagged  and  out  of  humor, 
he  began  to  find  pleasure  and  relief  in  his  unceremonious 
visits,  and  looked  forward  to  them.  There  came  an 
evening  when  Bertha,  in  looking  over  some  music, 
came  upon  a  primitive  ballad,  which  proved  to  be  among 
the  recollections  of  his  youth,  and  she  aroused  him  to 
enthusiasm  by  singing  it.  His  musical  taste  was  not 
remarkable  for  its  cultivation ;  he  was  strongly  in  fa1?  or 
of  pronounced  melody,  and  was  disposed  to  regard  a 
sung  as  incomplete  without  a  chorus ;  but  he  enjoyed 
himself  when  his  prejudices  were  pandered  to,  and 
Bertha  rather  respected  his  courageous,  if  benighted, 
frankness,  and  his  obstinate  faith  in  his  obsolete  favor- 
ites. So  she  sang  "Ben  Bolt"  to  him,  and  " The  Harp 
that  once  through  Tara's  Halls,"  and  others  far  less 
classical  and  more  florid,  and  while  she  sang  he  sat  un- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

gracefully,  but  comfortably,  by  the  fire,  his  eyes  twink 
ling  less   watchfully,   the   rugged  lines   of  his  bluntx 
featured  face  almost  settling  into  repose,  and  sometimes 
when  she  ended  he  roused  himself  with  something  like 
a  sigh. 

"Do  you  like  it?"  she  would  say.  "Does  it  make 
you  forget  f  the  gentleman  from  Indiana'  and  the  '  sen- 
ator from  Connecticut'?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  forget  them,"  he  would  reply  with 
dogged  good-humor.  "  They  are  not  the  kind  of  fellows 
it  is  safe  to  forget,  but  it  makes  my  recollections  of 
them  more  agreeable." 

But  after  a  while  there  were  times  when  he  was  not 
in  the  best  of  humors,  and  when  Bertha  had  a  fancy 
that  he  was  not  entirely  at  ease  or  pleased  with  herself. 
At  such  times  his  visits  were  brief  and  unsatisfactory, 
and  she  frequently  discovered  that  he  regarded  her  with 
a  restless  and  perturbed  expression,  as  if  he  was  not 
quite  certain  of  his  own  opinions  of  her. 

"  He  looks  at  me,"  she  said  to  Richard,  "  as  if  he  had 
moments  of  suspecting  me  of  something." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  Richard.     "  What   could  he  su« 
pect  you  of?  " 

"  Of  nothing,"  she  answered.  "  I  think  that  was  what 
we  agreed  to  call  it." 

But  she  never  failed  to  shrink  when  the  twinkling 
eyes  rested  upon  her  with  the  disturbed  questioning  in 
their  glance,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  shrinking 
was  very  bitter  to  her  in  secret. 

When  her  guest  approached  her  on  the  evening  before 
referred  to,  she  detected  at  once  that  he  was  not  in 
a  condition  of  mind  altogether  unruffled.  The  glances 
he  cast  on  those  about  him  were  not  encouraging,  and 
the  few  nods  of  recognition  he  bestowed  were  far  from 
coidial ;  his  hair  stood  on  end  a  trifle  more  aggressively 
than  usual,  and  his  short,  stout  body  expressed  a  degree 
of  general  dissatisfaction  which  it  was  next  to  impossi 
bie  to  ignore. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION .  461 

Bertha  did  not  attempt  to  ignore  it. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something  before  you  speak  to  me," 
she  said.  "  Something  has  put  you  out  of  humor." 

He  gave  her  a  sharp  glance,  and  then  looked  away 
over  the  heads  of  the  crowd. 

"There  is  always  enough  to  put  a  man  out  of  humor," 
he  said.  "  What  a  lot  of  people  you  have  here  to-night  I 
What  do  they  come  for  ?  " 

"  I  have  just  been  telling  Mr.  Arbuthnot  some  of  the 
reasons,"  she  answered.  "They  are  very  few  of  them 
good  ones.  You  came  hoping  to  recover  your  spirits." 

"  I  came  to  look  at  you,"  he  said. 

He  was  frequently  blunt,  but  there  was  a  bluntness 
about  this  speech  which  surprised  her.  She  answered 
him  with  a  laugh,  however. 

"I  am  always  worth  looking  at,"  she  said.  "And 
now  you  have  seen  me "  — 

He  was  looking  at  her  by  this  time,  and  even  more 
sharply  than  before.  It  seemed  as  if  he  was  bent  upon 
reading  in  her  face  the  answer  to  the  question  he  had 
asked  of  it  before,  but  he  evidently  did  not  find  it. 

"There's  something  wrong  with  you,"  he  said.  "] 
don't  know  what  it  is.  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
you." 

"If  you  could  make  anything  of  me  but  Bertha 
Amory ,"  she  replied, "  you  might  do  a  service  to  society ; 
but  that  is  out  of  the  question,  and  as  to  there  being 
something  wrong  with  me,  there  is  something  wrong 
with  all  of  us.  There  is  something  wrong  with  Mr. 
Arbuthnot,  he  is  not  enjoying  himself;  there  is  some- 
thing wrong  with  Senator  Planefield,  who  has  beeo 
gloomy  all  the  evening." 

"  Planefield,"  he  said.  "  Ah  I  yes,  there  he  is  I  Here 
pretty  often,  isn't  he?" 

"  He  is  a  great  friend  of  Richard's,"  she  replied,  with 
discretion. 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  he  returned.  And  then  he  gave 
his  attention  to  Planefield  for  a  few  minutes,  as  if  he 


452  T1IROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

found  him  also  an  object  of  deep  interest.     After  thii 
inspection  he  turned  to  Bertha  again. 

"  Well  "  he  said,  "  I  suppose  you  enjoy  all  this,  or  you 
wouldn't  do  it?" 

"You  are  not  enjoying  it,"  she  replied.  "It  does  not 
exhilarate  you  as  I  hoped  it  would." 

w  I  am  out  of  humor,"  was  his  answer.  "  I  told  you 
so.  I  have  just  heard  something  I  don't  like.  I 
dropped  in  here  to  stay  five  minutes,  and  take  a  look  at 
you  and  see  if"  — 

He  checked  himself  and  rubbed  his  upright  hair  im- 
patiently, almost  angrily. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  you  mightn't  be  enjoying  your- 
self better,"  he  said,  "  and  I  should  like  to  know  some- 
thing more  of  you  than  I  do." 

"  If  any  information  I  can  give  you  "  —  she  began. 

"Come,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden  effort  at  better 
humor,  "  that  is  the  way  you  talk  to  Planefield.  We 
are  too  good  friends  for  that." 

His  shrewd  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  her  as  if  asking 
the  unanswered  question  again. 

w  Come  I "  he  said.  "  I'm  a  blunt,  old-fashioned  fogy, 
but  we  are  good,  honest  friends, — and  always  have 
been." 

She  glanced  across  the  room  at  Richard,  who  was 
talking  to  a  stubborn  opposer  of  the  great  measure,  and 
making  himself  delightful  beyond  description.  She 
wished  for  the  moment  that  he  was  not  quite  so  pictu- 
resque and  animated ;  then  she  gathered  herself  together. 

WI  think  we  have  been,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  you  will 
believe  so." 

"  Well,"  he  answered,  "  I  shouldn't  like  to  believe 
anything  else." 

She  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  said  more  than  he 
originally  info  nded ;  he  changed  the  subject  abruptly , 
made  a  few  comments  upon  people  near  them,  asked  a 
few  questions,  and  finally  went  away,  having  scarcely 
spoken  to  any  one  but  herself. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  453 

w  Why  did  he  not  remain  longer  ? "  Richard  asked 
afterward,  when  the  guests  were  gone  and  they  were 
talking  the  evening  over. 

"  He  was  not  in  the  mood  to  meet  people,"  Beriha 
replied.  "  He  said  he  had  heard  something  he  did  not 
like,  and  it  had  put  him  out  of  humor.  I  think  it  was 
something  about  me." 

w  About  you ! "  Richard  exclaimed.  "  Why,  in 
Heaven's  name,  about  you?" 

"  His  manner  made  me  think  so,"  she  answered,  coldly. 
"  And  it  would  not  be  at  all  unnatural.  I  think  we  may 
begin  to  expect  such  things."  • 

w  Upon  my  word,"  said  Richard,  starting  up,  "I  think 
that  is  going  rather  far.  Don't  you  see"  —  with  right- 
eous indignation  —  "  what  an  imputation  you  are  casting 
on  me  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  would  allow  you  to  do  any- 
thing that  —  that"  — 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  met  his  with  an  unwavering 
glance. 

"  Certainly  not,"  she  said,  quickly.  And  his  sentence 
remained  unfinished,  not  because  he  felt  that  his  point 
had  been  admitted,  but  because,  for  some  mysterious 
reason,  it  suddenly  became  impossible  for  him  to  say 
more. 

More  than  some  of  late,  when  he  had  launched  into 
one  of  his  spasmodic  defences  of  himself,  he  had  found 
himself  checked  by  this  intangible  power  in  her  uplifted 
eyes,  and  he  certainly  did  not  feel  his  grievances  the  less 
for  the  experiences. 

Until  during  the  last  few  months  he  had  always 
counted  it  as  one  of  his  wife's  chief  charms  that  there 
was  nothing  complicated  about  her,  that  her  methods 
were  as  simple  and  direct  as  a  child's.  It  had  never 
seemed  necessary  to  explain  her.  But  he  had  not  found 
this  so  of  late.  He  had  even  begun  to  feel  that,  though 
there  was  no  outward  breach  in  the  tenor  of  their  lives, 
an  almost  inpalpable  barrier  had  risen  between  them. 
He  expressed  no  wish  she  did  not  endeavor  to  gratify  • 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

her  manner  toward  himself,  with  the  exception  of  thi 
fleeting  moments  when  he  had  felt  the  check,  was  entirely 
unchanged ;  the  spirit  of  her  gayety  ruled  the  house, 
as  it  had  always  done ;  and  yet  he  was  not  always  sure 
of  the  exact  significance  of  her  jests  and  laughter.  The 
jests  were  clever,  the  laugh  had  a  light  ring ;  but  there 
was  a  difference  which  puzzled  him,  and  which,  because 
he  recognized  in  it  some  vague  connection  with  himself, 
he  tried  in  his  moments  of  leisure  to  explain.  He 
had  even  spoken  of  it  to  Colonel  Tredennis  on  occasions 
when  his  mood  was  confidential. 

"She  used  to  be  as  frank  as  a  child,"  he  said,  "and 
have  the  lightest  way  in  the  world ;  and  I  liked  it.  J 
am  a  rather  feather-headed  fellow  myself,  perhaps,  and 
it  suited  me.  But  it  is  all  gone  now.  When  she  laughs 
I  don't  feel  sure  of  her,  and  when  she  is  silent  I  begin 
to  wonder  what  she  is  thinking  of." 

The  thing  she  thought,  the  words  she  said  to  herself 
oftenest  were  :  "It  will  not  last  very  long."  She  said 
them  over  to  herself  at  moments  she  could  not  have 
sustained  herself  under  but  for  the  consolation  she 
found  in  them.  Beyond  this  time,  when  what  she 
faced  from  day  to  day  would  be  over,  she  had  not  yet 
looked. 

"  It  is  a  curious  thing,"  she  said  to  Arbuthnot,  "  but 
I  seem  to  have  ceased  even  to  think  of  the  future.  I 
wonder  sometimes  if  very  old  people  do  not  feel  so  — 
as  if  there  was  nothing  more  to  happen." 

There  was  another  person  who  found  the  events  of 
the  present  sufficient  to  exclude  for  the  time  being 
almost  all  thought  of  the  future.  This  person  was 
Colonel  Tredennis,  who  had  found  his  responsibilities 
increase  upon  him  also, — not  the  least  of  these  re- 
sponsibilities being,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  intimacy 
with  Mr.  Richard  Amory  of  which  Bertha  had  spoken. 

"He  is  very  intimate  with  Richard," she  had  said,  and 
she  had  every  reason  for  making  the  comment. 

At  first  it  had  been  the  colonel  who  had  ma>le  tb« 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  455 

advances,  for  reasons  of  his  own,  but  later  it  had  not 
been  necessary  for  him  to  make  advances.  Having 
found  relief  in  making  his  first  reluctant  half-con- 
fidonces,  Richard  had  gradually  fallen  into  making 
others.  When  he  had  been  overpowered  by  secret 
anxiety  and  nervous  distrust  of  everything,  finding 
himself  alone  with  the  colonel,  and  admiring  and  re- 
specting above  all  things  the  self-control  ke  saw  in  him, 
—  a  self-control  which  meant  safety  and  silence  undei 
all  temptations  to  betray  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  trust 
reposed  in  him,  —  it  had  been  impossible  for  him  to  resist 
the  impulse  to  speak  of  the  trials  which  beset  him ; 
and,  having  once  spoken  of  them,  it  was  again  impos- 
sible not  to  go  a  little  farther,  and  say  more  than  he 
had  at  first  intended.  So  he  had  gone  on  from  one  step 
to  another  until  there  had  come  a  day  when  the  colonel 
himself  had  checked  him  for  an  instant,  feeling  it  only 
the  part  of  honor  in  the  man  who  was  the  cooler  of  the 
two,  and  who  had  nothing  to  risk  or  repent. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  Remember  that,  though 
I  have  not  asked  questions  so  far,  I  ana  ready  to  hear 
anything  you  choose  to  say,  but  don't  tell  me  what 
you  might  wish  you  had  kept  back  to-morrow." 

"The  devil  take  it  all,"  cried  Richard,  dashing  his 
fist  on  the  table.  "I  must  tell  some  one,  or  I  shall  go 
mad."  But  the  misery  which  impelled  him  notwith- 
standing, he  always  told  his  story  in  his  own  way,  and 
gave  it  a  complexion  more  delicate  than  a  less  graceful 
historian  might  have  been  generous  enough  to  bestow. 
He  had  been  too  sanguine  and  enthusiastic ;  he  had 
made  mistakes  ;  he  had  been  led  by  the  duplicity  of  a 
wily  world  into  follies  ;  he  had  been  unfortunate ;  those 
more  experienced  than  himself  had  betrayed  the  confi- 
dence it  had  been  only  natural  he  should  repose  in 
them.  And  throughout  the  labyrinth  of  the  relation  he 
wound  his  way,  —  a  graceful,  agile,  supple  figure, 
lightly  avoiding  an  obstacle  here,  dexterously  overstep- 
ping a  barrier  there,  and  untouched  by  any  shadow  but 
that  of  misfortune. 


456  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

At  first  he  spoke  chiefly  of  the  complications  which 
bore  heavily  upon  him  ;  and  these  complications,  arising 
entirely  from  the  actions  of  others,  committed  him  to  so 
little  that  the  colonel  listened  with  apprehension  more 
grave  than  the  open  confession  of  greater  blunders 
would  have  awakened  in  him.  "  He  would  tell  more," 
he  thought,  "  if  there  were  less  to  tell." 

The  grim  fancy  came  to  him  sometimes  as  he  listened, 
that  it  was  as  if  he  watched  a  man  circling  about  the 
edge  of  a  volcano,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer,  until  at 
last,  in  spite  of  himself,  and  impelled  by  some  dread 
necessity,  he  must  plunge  headlong  in.  And  so  Richard 
circled  about  his  crater :  sometimes  drawn  nearer  by 
the  emotion  and  excitement  of  the  moment,  some- 
times withdrawing  a  trifle  through  a  caution  as  momen- 
tary, but  in  each  of  his  circlings  revealing  a  little  more 
of  the  truth.  The  revelations  were  principally  con- 
nected with  the  Westoria  lands  scheme,  and  were  such 
in  many  instances  as  the  colonel  was  not  wholly  unpre- 
pared to  hear.  He  had  not  looked  on  during  the  last 
year  for  nothing,  and  often,  when  Richard  had  been  in 
gay  good  spirits,  and  had  imagined  himself  telling 
nothing,  his  silent  companion  had  heard  his  pleasantries 
with  forebodings  which  he  could  not  control.  He  was 
not  deceived  by  any  appearance  of  entire  frankness,  and 
knew  that  he  had  not  been  told  all  until  one  dark  and 
stormy  night,  as  he  sat  in  his  room,  Richard  was  an- 
nounced, and  came  in  pallid,  haggard,  beaten  by  the 
rain,  and  at  the  lowest  ebb  of  depression.  He  had  had 
a  hard  and  bitter  day  of  it,  and  it  had  followed  several 
others  quite  as  hard  and  bitter ;  he  had  been  fagging 
about  the  Capitol,  going  the  old  rounds,  using  the  old 
arguments,  trying  new  ones,  overcoming  one  obstacle 
only  to  find  himself  confronted  with  another,  feeling 
that  he  was  losing  ground  where  it  was  a  matter  of  life 
and  death  that  he  should  gain  it ;  spirits  and  courage 
deserting  him  just  when  he  needed  them  most ;  and  all 
this  Ving  orer,  he  dropped  into  his  office  to  find  await- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  457 

ing  him  there  letters  containing  news  which  gave  tha 
final  blow. 

He  sat  down  by  the  table  and  began  his  outpourings, 
graceful,  attractive,  injured.  The  colonel  thought  him 
so,  as  he  watched  him  and  listened,  recognizing  mean- 
while the  incompleteness  of  his  recital,  and  making  up 
his  mind  that  the  time  had  come  when  it  was  safer  that 
the  whole  truth  should  be  told.  In  the  hours  in  which 
he  had  pondered  upon  the  subject  he  gradually  decided 
that  such  an  occasion  would  arrive ;  and  here  it  was. 

So  at  a  certain  fitting  juncture,  just  as  Richard  was 
lightly  skirting  a  delicate  point,  Tredennis  leaned  for- 
ward and  laid  his  open  hand  on  the  table  with  a  curious 
simplicity  of  gesture. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  tell  me  the  whole 
story.  You  have  never  done  it  yet.  What  do  you  say?" 

The  boarder  on  the  floor  below,  who  had  heard  him 
walking  to  and  fro  on  the  first  New  Year's  night  he  had 
spent  in  Washington,  and  on  many  a  night  since,  heard 
his  firm,  regular  tread  again  during  the  half  hour  in 
which  Richard  told,  in  fitful  outbursts,  what  he  had  not 
found  himself  equal  to  telling  before.  It  was  not  easy 
to  tell  it  in  a  very  clear  and  connected  manner ;  it  was 
necessary  to  interlard  it  with  many  explanations  and 
extenuations,  and  even  when  these  were  supplied  there 
was  a  baldness  about  the  facts,  as  they  gradually  grouped 
themselves  together,  which  it  was  not  agreeable  to  con- 
template ;  and  Richard  felt  this  himself  gallingly. 

"I  know  how  it  appears  to  you,"  he  said ;  "  I  know 
how  it  sounds  !  That  is  the  maddening  side  of  it, —  it 
looks  so  much  worse  than  it  really  is  !  There  is  not  a 
man  living  who  would  accuse  me  of  intentional  wrong. 
Confound  it !  I  seem  to  have  been  forced  into  doing 
the  very  things  it  was  least  natural  to  me  to  do  !  Bertha 
herself  would  say  it,  —  she  would  understand  it.  She 
is  always  just  and  generous  ! " 

"Yes,"  said  the  colonel ;  "I  should  say  she  had  beei 
generous." 


458  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  You  mean  that  I  have  betrayed  her  generosity !  * 
cried  Richard.  "  That,  of  course  !  I  expected  it." 

"You  will  find,"  said  the  colonel,  "that  others  wil. 
eay  the  same  thing." 

lie  had  heard  even  more  than  his  worst  misgivings 
had  suggested  to  him,  and  the  shock  of  it  had  destroyed 
something  of  his  self-control.  For  the  time  being  ho 
was  in  no  lenient  mood. 

"  I  know  what  people  will  say  ! "  Richard  exclaimed. 
"  Do  you  suppose  I  have  not  thought  of  it  a  thousand 
times  ?  I  know  what  I  should  say  if  I  did  not  know 
the  circumstances.  It  is  the  circumstances  that  make 
the  difference." 

"The  fact  that  they  are  your  circumstances,  and 
not  another  man's,"  began  Tredennis ;  but  there  he 
checked  himself.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  coldly. 
"  I  have  no  right  to  meet  your  confidence  with  blame. 
It  will  do  no  good.  If  I  can  give  you  no  help,  I  might 
better  be  silent.  There  were  circumstances  which 
appeared  extenuating  to  you,  I  suppose." 

He  was  angered  by  his  own  anger,  as  he  had  often 
been  before.  He  told  himself  that  he  was  making  the 
matter  a  personal  cause,  as  usual ;  but  how  could  he 
hear  that  her  very  generosity  and  simplicity  had  been 
used  against  her  by  the  man  who  should  have  guarded 
her  interests  as  his  first  duty,  without  burning  with 
sharp  and  fierce  indignation. 

"  If  I  understand  you,"  he  said,  "  your  only  hope  of 
recovering  what  you  have  lost  lies  in  the  success  of  the 
Westoria  scheme  ?  " 

"Yrs,"  answered  Amory,  with  his  forehead  on  hi» 
hands,  "that  is  the  diabolical  truth  ! " 

"And  you  have  lost?" 

w  Once  I  was  driven  into  saying  to  you  that  if  the 
thing  should  fail  it  would  mean  ruin  to  me.  That  was 
Vhe  truth,  too." 

The  colonel  stood  still. 

w  Ruin  to  you  I  "  he  said .     "  Ruin  to  your  wife  — 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  451: 

ruin  to   your   children  —  serious  loss  to  the  old  man 
who"  — 

"Who  trusted  me!"  Richard  finished,  gnawing  his 
white  lips.  "  I  see  it  in  exactly  the  same  light  myself, 
and  it  does  not  make  it  easier  to  bear.  That  is  the  way 
a  thing  looks  when  it  fails.  Suppose  it  had  succeeded. 
It  may  succeed  yet.  They  trusted  me,  and,  I  tell  you, 
I  trusted  myself." 

It  was  easy  to  see  just  what  despair  would  seize  him 
if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  how  powerless  he 
would  be  in  its  clutches.  He  was  like  a  reed  beaten  by 
the  wind,  even  now.  A  sudden  paroxysm  of  fear  fell 
upon  him. 

"Great  God  1  "  he  cried.  "It  can't  fail!  What 
Dould  I  say  to  them  —  how  could  I  explain  it  ?  " 

A  thousand  wild  thoughts  surged  through  Tredennis' 
brain  as  he  heard  him.  The  old  sense  of  helplessness 
was  strong  upon  him.  To  his  upright  strength  there 
seemed  no  way  of  judging  fairly  of,  or  dealing  practi- 
cally with,  such  dishonor  and  weakness.  What  stand- 
ard could  be  applied  to  a  man  who  lied  agreeably  in  his 
very  thoughts  of  himself  and  his  actions?  He  had 
scarcely  made  a  statement  during  the  last  hour  which 
had  not  contained  some  airy  falsehood.  Of  whom  was 
it  he  thought  in  his  momentary  anguish?  Not  of 
Bertha  —  not  of  her  children  —  not  of  the  gentle  old 
scholar,  who  had  always  been  lenient  with  his  faults. 
It  was  of  himself  he  was  thinking  —  of  Richard  Amory , 
robbed  of  his  refined  picturesqueness  by  mere  circum- 
stance and  placed  by  bad  luck  at  a  baleful  disadvantage  1 
For  a  few  minutes  there  was  a  silence.  Richard  sat 
with  his  brow  upon  his  hands,  his  elbows  on  the  table 
before  him.  Tredennis  paced  to  and  fro,  looking  down- 
ward. At  length  Richard  raised  his  head.  He  did  so 
because  Tredennis  had  stopped  his  walk. 
"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

Tredennis  walked  over  to  him  and  sat  down.     He 
was  pale,  and  wore  a  set  and  rigid  look,  the  chief  char- 


460  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

acteristic  of  which  was  that  it  expressed  absolutely 
nothing.  His  voice  was  just  as  hard  and  expressed  aa 
little  when  he  spoke. 

"  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  will  preface  it  by  the  statement  that,  as  a  business  man, 
I  am  perfectly  well  aware  that  it  is  almost  madness  to 
make  it.  I  say  'almost.'  Let  it  rest  there.  I  will  as- 
sume the  risks  you  have  run  in  the  Westoria  scheme. 
Invest  the  money  you  have  charge  of  in  something  safer. 
You  say  there  are  chances  of  success.  I  will  take  those 
chances." 

"  What!  "  cried  Richard.    "  What!  " 

He  sat  upright,  staring.  He  did  not  believe  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses  ;  but  Tredennis  went  on,  without  the 
quiver  of  a  muscle,  speaking  steadily,  almost  monoto- 
nously. 

"  I  have  money,"  he  said.  "  More  than  you  know, 
perhaps.  I  have  had  recently  a  legacy  which  would  of 
itself  make  me  a  comparatively  rich  man.  That  I  was 
not  dependent  upon  my  pay  you  knew  before.  I  have 
no  family.  I  shall  not  marry.  I  am  fond  of  your 
children,  of  Janey  particularly.  I  should  have  provided 
for  her  future  in  any  case.  You  have  made  a  bad  in- 
vestment in  these  lands  ;  transfer  them  to  me  and  invest 
in  something  safer." 

"  And  if  the  bill  fails  to  pass  !  "  exclaimed  Richard. 

"  If  it  fails  to  pass  I  shall  have  the  land  on  my  hands  ; 
if  it  passes  I  shall  have  made  something  by  a  venture, 
and  Janey  will  be  the  richer  ;  but,  as  it  stands,  the  vent- 
ure had  better  be  mine  than  yours.  You  have  lost 
enough." 

Richard  gave  his  hair  an  excited  toss  backward,  and 
btared  at  him  as  he  had  done  before ;  a  slight,  cold 
moisture  broke  out  on  his  forehead. 

"  You  mean  "  —  he  began,  breathlessly. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  said  Tredennis,  "  what  I  told 
you  of  the  comments  people  were  beginning  to  make? 
The}  have  assumed  the  form  I  told  you  they  would.  It 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  401 

is  best  for  —  for  your  children  that  they  should  be  put 
an  end  to.  If  I  assume  these  risks  there  will  be  no 
farther  need  for  you  to  use  —  to  exert  yourself."  He 
began  to  look  white  about  the  mouth,  and  through  his 
iron  stolidity  there  was  something  revealed  before  which 
Richard  felt  himself  quail.  "The  night  that  Blundol 
came  in  to  your  wife's  reception,  and  remained  so  short 
a  time,  he  had  heard  a  remark  upon  the  influence  she 
was  exerting  over  him,  and  it  had  had  a  bad  effect.  The 
remark  was  made  publicly  at  one  of  the  hotels."  He 
turned  a  little  whiter,  and  the  something  all  the  atrength 
in  him  had  held  down  at  the  outset  leaped  to  the  surface. 
"  I  have  no  wife  to  —  to  use,"  he  said ;  "  if  I  had,  by 
Heavens,  I  would  have  spared  her  I " 

He  had  held  himself  in  hand  and  been  silent  a  long 
time,  but  he  could  not  do  it  now. 

"She  is  the  mother  of  your  children,"  he  cried, 
clenching  his  great  hand.  "  And  women  are  beginning 
to  avoid  her,  and  men  to  bandy  her  name  to  and  fro. 
You  have  deceived  her;  you  have  thrown  away  her 
fortune ;  you  have  used  her  as  an  instrument  in  your 
schemes.  /,  who  am  only  an  outsider,  with  no  right  to 
defend  her  —  /  defend  her  for  her  father's  sake,  for  her 
child's,  for  her  own  !  You  are  on  the  verge  of  ruin  and 
disgrace.  I  offer  you  the  chance  to  retrieve  yourself — 
to  retrieve  her !  Take  it,  if  you  are  a  man  I  " 

Richard  had  fallen  back  in  his  chair  breathless  and 
ashen.  In  all  his  imaginings  of  what  the  future  might 
hold  he  had  never  thought  of  such  a  possibility  as  this, 
—  that  it  should  be  this  man  who  would  turn  upon  him 
and  place  an  interpretation  so  fiercely  unsparing  upon 
what  he  had  done  !  Under  all  his  admiration  and  respect 
for  the  colonel  there  had  been  hidden,  it  must  be  avl- 
mitted,  an  almost  unconscious  touch  of  contempt  for 
him,  as  a  rather  heavy  and  unsophisticated  personage, 
scarcely  versatile  or  agile  enough,  and  formed  in  a  mould 
somewhat  obsolete  and  quixotic,  —  a  safe  person  to  con- 
fide in,  and  one  to  invite  confidence  passively  by  hia 


462  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

belief  in  ^  hat  was  presented  to  him ;  a  man  to  make  a 
good  listener  and  to  encourage  one  to  believe  in  one's 
own  statements,  certainly  not  a  man  to  embarrass  and 
discourage  a  historian  by  asking  difficult  questions  or 
translating  too  literally  what  was  said.  He  had  not 
asked  questions  until  to-night,  and  his  face  had  said 
very  little  for  him  on  any  occasion.  Among  other 
things  Richard  had  secretly  —  though  leniently  —  felt 
him  to  be  a  trifle  stolid,  and  had  amiably  forgiven  him 
for  it.  It  was  this  very  thing  which  made  the  sudden 
change  appear  so  keen  an  injustice  and  injury ;  it 
amounted  to  a  breach  of  confidence,  that  he  should  have 
formed  a  deliberate  and  obstinate  opinion  of  his  own, 
entirely  unbiassed  by  the  presentation  of  the  case  offered 
to  him.  He  had  spoken  more  than  once,  it  was  true, 
in  a  manner  which  had  suggested  prejudice  ;  but  it  had 
been  the  prejudice  of  the  primeval  mind,  unable  to 
adjust  itself  to  modern  conditions  and  easily  disregarded 
by  more  experienced.  But  now !  —  he  was  stolid  no 
longer.  His  first  words  had  startled  Richard  beyond 
expression.  His  face  said  more  for  him  than  his  words  ; 
it  burned  white  with  the  fire  it  had  hidden  so  long ;  his 
great  frame  quivered  with  the  passion  of  the  moment ; 
when  he  had  clenched  his  hand  it  had  been  in  the  vain 
effort  to  hold  it  still ;  and  yet  the  man  who  saw  it 
recognized  in  it  only  the  wrath  and  scorn  which  had 
reference  to  himself.  Perhaps  it  was  best  that  it  should 
have  been  so,  —  best  that  his  triviality  was  so  complete 
that  he  could  see  nothing  which  was  not  in  some  way 
connected  with  his  own  personality. 

"Tredennis,"  he  gasped  out,  "  you  are  terribly  harsh  1 
I  did  not  think  you  "  — 

"  Even  if  I  could  lie  and  palter  to  you,"  said  Treden- 
nis,  his  clenched  hand  still  on  the  table,  "this  is  not  the 
time  for  it.  I  have  tried  before  to  make  you  face  the 
truth,  but  you  have  refused  to  do  it.  Perhaps  you  had 
made  yourself  believe  what  you  told  me,  —  that  no 
harm  was  meant  or  done,  /know  what  harm  lias  been 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  463 

lono.  I  have  heard  the  talk  of  the  hotel  corridors  and 
:lubs  I "  His  hand  clenched  itself  harder  and  he  dre\f 
in  a  sharp  breath. 

w  It  is  time  that  you  should  give  this  thing  up,"  he 
continued,  with  deadly  determination.  "  And  I  am  will- 
ing to  shoulder  it.  Who  else  would  do  the  same 
thing?" 

"  No  one  else,"  said  Richard,  bitterly.  w  And  it  is  not 
for  my  sake  you  do  it  either ;  it  is  for  the  sake  of  some 
of  your  ideal  fancies  that  are  too  fine  for  us  worldlings 
to  understand,  I  swear  ! "  And  he  felt  it  specially  hard 
that  it  was  so. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  colonel,  "I  suppose  you  might  call  it 
that.  It  is  not  for  your  sake,  as  you  say.  It  has  been 
one  of  my  fancies  that  a  man  might  even  deny  himself 
for  the  sake  of  an  —  an  idea,  and  I  am  not  denying  my- 
self. I  am  only  giving  to  your  child,  in  one  way,  what 
I  meant  to  give  to  her  in  another.  She  would  be  will- 
ing to  share  it  with  her  mother,  I  think." 

And  then,  somehow,  Richard  began  to  feel  that  this 
offer  was  a  demand,  and  that,  even  if  his  sanguine  mood 
should  come  upon  him  again,  he  would  not  find  it  ex- 
actly easy  to  avoid  it.  It  seemed  actually  as  if  there 
was  something  in  this  man  —  some  principle  of  strength, 
of  feeling,  of  conviction — which  almost  constituted  a 
right  by  which  he  might  contend  for  what  he  asked ; 
and  before  it,  in  his  temporary  abasement  and  anguish 
of  mind,  Richard  Amory  faltered.  He  said  a  great 
deal,  it  is  true,  and  argued  his  case  as  he  had  argued  it 
before,  being  betrayed  in  the  course  of  the  argument 
by  the  exigencies  of  the  case  to  add  facts  as  well  as 
fancies.  He  endeavored  to  adorn  his  position  as  much 
as  possible,  and,  naturally,  his  failure  was  not  entire. 
There  were  hopes  of  the  passage  of  the  bill,  sometimes 
strong  hopes,  it  seemed ;  if  the  money  he  had  invested 
had  been  his  own ;  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  failure  of 
his  speculations  in  other  quarters ;  if  so  much  had  not 
depended  upon  failure  and  success, — he  would  ha ve  run 


464  THEOUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

all  risks  willingly.  There  were,  indeed,  moments  whea 
it  almost  appeared  that  his  companion  was  on  the  point 
of  making  a  capital  investment,  and  being  much  favored 
thereby. 

"It  is  really  not  half  so  bad  as  it  seems,"  he  said, 
lining  cheerfulness  as  he  talked.  "  But,  after  such  a 

y  as  I  have  had,  a  man  loses  courage  and  cannot  look 
at  things  collectedly.  I  have  been  up  and  down  in  the 
scale  a  score  of  times  in  the  last  eight  hours.  That  is 
where  the  wear  and  tear  comes  in.  A  great  deal  de- 
pends on  Blundel ;  and  I  had  a  talk  with  him  which 
carried  us  farther  than  we  have  ever  been  before." 

"  Farther,"  said  Tredennis.     "  In  what  direction  ?  " 

Eichard  flushed  slightly. 

"I  think  I  sounded  him  pretty  well,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  no  use  mincing  matters ;  it  has  to  be  done. 
We  have  never  been  able  to  get  at  his  views  of  things 
exactly,  and  I  won't  say  he  went  very  far  this  after- 
noon; but  I  was  in  a  desperate  mood,  and  —  well,  I 
think  I  reached  bottom.  He  half  promised  to  call  at 
the  house  this  evening.  I  dare  say  he  is  with  Berth? 
now." 

Something  in  his  flush,  which  had  a  slightly  excited 
and  triumphant  air,  something  in  his  look  and  tone, 
caused  Tredennis  to  start  in  his  chair. 

"What  is  he  there  for?"  he  said.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

Eichard  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  For  a 
moment  he  seemed  to  have  lost  all  his  grace  and  refine- 
ment of  charm,  —  for  the  moment  he  was  a  distinctly 
coarse  and  undraped  human  being. 

"  Ha  has  gone  to  make  an  evening  call,"  he  said. 
*  And  if  she  manages  him  as  well  as  she  has  managed 
him  before,  —  as  well  as  she  can  manage  any  man  she 
chooses  to  take  in  hand,  and  yet  not  give  him  more  than 
a  smile  or  so,  — your  investment,  if  you  make  it,  may 
not,  turn  out  such  a  bad  one." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  465 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BERTHA  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  with  hei 
children,  as  she  had  spent  part  of  many  days  lately. 
She  had  gone  up  to  the  nursery  after  breakfast  to  see 
Jack  and  Janey  at  their  lessons,  and  had  remained  with 
them  and  given  herself  up  to  their  entertainment.  She 
was  not  well ;  the  weather  was  bad ;  she  might  give 
herself  a  holiday,  and  she  would  spend  it  in  her  own 
way,  in  the  one  refuge  which  never  failed  her. 

"It  is  always  quiet  here,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  If  I 
could  give  up  all  the  rest  —  all  of  it  —  and  spend  all 
my  days  here,  and  think  of  nothing  else,  I  might  be 
better.  There  are  women  who  live  so.  I  think  they 
must  be  better  in  every  way  than  I  am — and  happier. 
I  am  sure  I  should  have  been  happier  if  I  had  begun  so 
long  ago." 

And  as  she  sat,  with  Janey  at  her  side,  in  the  large 
chair  which  held  them  both,  her  arm  thrown  round  the 
child's  waist,  there  came  to  her  a  vague  thought  of  what 
the  unknown  future  might  form  itself  into  when  she 
"began  again."  It  would  be  beginning  again  when  the 
sea  was  between  the  new  life  and  the  old ;  everything 
would  be  left  behind  —  but  the  children.  She  would 
live  as  she  had  lived  in  Virginia,  always  with  the  children 
—  always  with  the  children.  "  It  is  the  only  safe  thing," 
she  thought,  clasping  Janey  closer.  "  Nothing  else  is 
safe  for  a  woman  who  is  unhappy.  If  one  is  happy  one 
may  be  gay,  and  look  on  at  the  world  with  the  rest ;  but 
there  are  some  wlio  must  not  look  on  —  who  dare  not." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Janey,  "  you  are  holding  me  a  little 
too  close,  and  your  face  looks  —  it  looks  —  as  if  you 
were  thinking." 

Bertha  laughed  to  reassure  her.     They  were  used  to 


466*  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

this  gay,  soft  laugh  of  hers,  as  the  rest  of  the  world 
was.  If  she  was  silent,  if  the  room  was  not  bright  with 
the  merriment  she  had  always  filled  it  with,  they  felt 
themselves  a  trifle  injured,  and  demanded  their  natural 
rights  with  juvenile  imperiousness.  "Mamma  always 
laughs,"  Jack  had  once  announced  to  a  roomful  of 
company.  "  She  plays  new  games  with  us  and  laughs, 
and  we  laugh  too.  Maria  and  Susan  are  not  funny. 
Mamma  is  funny,  and  like  a  little  girl  grown  up.  We 
always  have  fun  when  she  comes  into  the  nursery." 
"  It  is  something  the  same  way  in  the  parlor,"  Planefield 
had  said,  showing  his  teeth  amiably,  and  Bertha,  who 
was  standing  near  Colonel  Tredennis,  had  laughed  in  a 
manner  to  support  her  reputation,  but  bad  said  nothing. 
So  she  laughed  now,  not  very  vivaciously,  perhaps. 
"  That  was  very  improper,  Janey,"  she  said,  "  to  look 
as  if  I  was  thinking.  It  is  bad  enough  to  be  thinking. 
It  must  not  occur  again." 

"  But  if  you  were  thinking  of  a  story  to  tell  us,"  sug- 
gested Jack,  graciously,  "  it  wouldn't  matter,  you  see. 
You  might  go  on  thinking." 

"But  the  story  was  not  a  new  one,"  she  answered. 
"It  was  sad.  I  did  not  like  it  myself." 

"  We  should  like  it,"  said  Janey. 

"  If  it's  a  story,"  remarked  Jack,  twisting  the  string 
round  his  top,  "  it's  all  right.  There  was  a  story  Uncle 
Philip  told  us." 

"  Suppose  you  tell  it  to  me,"  said  Bertha. 

"  It  was  about  a  knight,"  said  Janey,  "  who  went  to  a 
gi'ett  battle.  It  was  very  sorrowful.  He  was  strong, 
and  happy,  and  bold,  and  the  king  gave  him  a  sword 
and  armor  that  glittered  and  was  beautiful.  And  his 
hair  waved  in  the  breeze.  And  he  was  young  and 
brave.  And  his  horse  arched  its  neck.  And  the  knight 
longed  to  go  and  fight  in  the  battle,  and  was  glad  and 
not  afraid ;  and  the  people  looked  on  and  praised  him, 
because  they  thought  he  would  fight  so  well.  But  just 
as  the  battle  began,  before  he  had  even  drawn  his  sword, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  467 

a  stray  shot  came,  and  he  fell.  And  while  the  battle 
went  on  he  lay  there  dying,  with  his  hand  on  his  breast. 
And  at  night,  when  the  battle  was  over,  and  the  stars 
came  out,  he  lay  and  looked  up  at  them,  and  at  the  dark- 
blue  sky,  and  wondered  why  he  had  been  given  his  sword 
and  armor,  and  why  he  had  been  allowed  to  feel  so 
strong,  and  glad,  and  eager,  —  only  for  that.  But  he 
did  not  know.  There  was  no  one  to  tell  him.  And  he 
died.  And  the  stars  shone  down  on  his  bright  armor 
and  his  dead  face." 

"  I  didn't  like  it  myself,"  commented  Jack.  "It 
wasn't  much  of  a  story.  I  told  him  so." 

"  He  was  sorry  he  told  it,"  said  Janey,  "  because  I 
cried.  I  don't  think  he  meant  to  tell  such  a  sad  story." 

"  He  wasn't  funny,  that  day,"  observed  Jack.  "  Some- 
times he  isn't  funny  at  all,  and  he  sits  and  thinks  about 
things ;  and  then,  if  we  make  him  tell  us  a  story,  he 
doesn't  tell  a  good  one.  He  used  to  be  nicer  than  he  is 
now." 

"  I  love  him,"  said  Janey,  faithfully ;  "  I  think  he  is 
nice  all  the  time." 

"It  wasn't  much  of  a  story,  that  is  true,"  said  Bertha. 
"  There  was  not  enough  of  it." 

"  He  died  too  soon,"  said  Jack. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bertha  ;  "he  died  too  soon,  that  was  it,  — 
too  soon."  And  the  laugh  she  ended  with  had  a  sound 
which  made  her  shudder. 

She  got  up  from  her  rocking-chair  quickly. 

"We  won't  tell  stories,"  she  said.  "We  will  play. 
We  will  play  ball  and  blind-man's  bluff —  and  run  about 
and  get  warm.  That  will  be  better." 

And  she  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  tied  it  ovei 
her  eyes  with  unsteady  hands,  laughing  again,  — 
laughing  while  the  children  laughed,  too. 

They  played  until  the  room  rang  with  their  merri- 
ment. They  had  not  been  so  gay  together  for  many  a 
day,  and  when  the  game  was  at  an  end  they  tried 
another  and  another,  until  they  were  tired  and  ready  for 


468  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

*heir  nursery  dinner.  Bertha  did  not  leave  them  evei 
then.  She  did  not  expect  Richard  home  until  their  own 
dinner-hour  in  the  evening,  so  she  sat  at  the  children's 
table  and  helped  them  herself,  in  the  nurse's  place  ;  and 
they  were  in  high  spirits,  and  loquacious  and  confidential. 

When  the  meal  was  over  they  sat  by  the  nursery 
tire,  and  Meg  fell  asleep  in  her  mother's  arms ;  and  after 
she  had  laid  her  on  her  bed  Bertha  came  back  to  Jack 
and  Janey,  and  read  and  talked  to  them  until  dusk 
began  to  close  in  about  them.  It  was  as  they  sat  so 
together  that  a  sealed  package  was  brought  to  her  by  a 
servant,  who  said  it  had  been  left  at  the  door  by  a 
messenger.  It  contained  two  letters,  —  one  addressed 
to  Senator  Blundel,  and  one  to  herself,  —  and  both  were 
in  Richard's  hand. 

w  I  suppose  something  has  detained  him,  and  I  am  not 
to  wait  dinner,"  she  thought,  as  she  opened  the  envelope 
bearing  her  own  name. 

The  same  thing  had  occurred  once  or  twice  before,  so 
it  made  but  little  impression  upon  her.  There  were  the 
usual  perfectly  natural  excuses.  He  had  been  very 
hard  at  work  and  would  be  obliged  to  remain  out  until 
some  time  past  their  dinner-hour.  He  had  an  engage- 
ment at  one  of  the  hotels,  and  could  dine  there  ;  he  was 
not  quite  sure  that  he  should  be  home  until  late.  Then 
he  added,  just  before  closing : 

w  Blundel  said  something  about  calling  this  evening. 
He  had  been  having  a  hard  day  of  it  and  said  he  wanted 
a  change.  I  had  a  very  satisfactory  talk  with  him,  and 
I  think  he  begins  to  see  the  rights  of  our  case.  Enter- 
tain him  as  charmingly  as  possible,  and  if  he  is  not  too 
tired,  and  is  in  a  good  humor,  hand  him  the  enclosed  letter. 
It  contains  testimony  which  ought  to  be  a  strong  argu- 
ment, and  I  think  it  will  be." 

Bertha  looked  at  the  letter.  It  was  not  at  all  impos- 
ing, and  seemed  to  contain  nothing  more  than  a  slip  of 
paper.  She  put  it  down  on  the  mantel  and  sighed 
faintly. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADM1NISTL  iTION. 

"  If  he  knew  what  a  service  he  would  do  me  by  seeing 
the  rights  of  the  case,"  she  said  to  herself,  "I  think 
he  would  listen  to  their  arguments.  I  think  he  likes 
me  well  enough  to  do  it.  I  believe  he  would  enjoy 
being  kind  to  me.  If  this  should  be  the  end  of  it  all, 
it  would  be  worth  the  trouble  of  being  amusing  and 
amiable  one  evening." 

But  she  did  not  look  forward  with  any  great  pleasure 
to  the  prospect  of  what  was  before  her.  Perhaps  her 
day  in  the  nursery  had  been  a  little  too  much  for  her ; 
she  was  tired,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  be  left  alone. 
But  this  was  not  to  be.  She  must  attire  herself,  in  ail 
her  bravery,  and  sing,  and  laugh,  and  be  gay  a  little 
longer.  How  often  had  she  done  the  same  thing  before  ? 
How  often  would  she  do  it  again  ? 

"There  are  some  people  who  are  born  to  play 
comedy,"  she  said  afterward,  as  she  stood  before  her 
mirror,  dressing.  "  They  can  do  nothing  else.  I  am 
one  of  then!..  Very  little  is  expected  of  me,  only  that 
I  shall  always^  laugh  and  make  jokes.  If  I  were  to  try 
tragedy,  that  Would  be  a  better  jest  than  all  the  rest. 
If  I  were  to  be  serious,  what  a  joke  that  would  be  ! " 

She  thought,  as  she  had  done  a  thousand  times,  of  a 
portrait  of  herself  which  had  been  painted  three  years 
before.  It  had  been  her  Christmas  gift  to  Richard,  and 
had  been  considered  a  great  success.  It  was  a  wonder- 
fully spirited  likeness,  and  the  artist  had  been  fortunate 
in  catching  her  brightest  look. 

"It  is  the  expression  that  is  so  marvellous,"  Richard 
had  often  said.  w  When  I  look  at  it  I  always  expect  to 
hear  you  laugh." 

w  Are  they  never  tired  of  it  ?  "  she  said ;  "  never  tired 
of  hearing  me  laugh  ?  If  I  were  to  stop  some  day  and 
say,  'See,  I  am  tired  of  it  myself.  I  have  tears  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  you.  Let  me ' "  —  She  checked 
herself ;  her  hands  had  begun  to  tremble — her  voice  ;  she 
knew  too  well  what  was  coming  upon  her.  She  looked 
at  herself  in  the  glass. 


470  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  must  dress  myself  carefully,"  she  said,  "if  I  am  tc 
[ook  vivacious.  One's  attire  is  called  upon  to  do  a 
great  deal  for  one  when  one  has  a  face  like  that." 

Outwardly  her  attire  had  done  a  great  deal  for  her 
when,  after  she  had  dined  alone,  she  sat  awaiting  her 
guest.  The  fire  burned  brightly;  the  old  songs  lay 
upon  the  piano  ;  a  low  stand,  with  a  pretty  coffee  service 
upon  it,  was  drawn  near  her ;  a  gay  little  work-basket, 
containing  some  trifle  of  graceful  work,  was  on  her  knee. 
Outside,  the  night  was  decidedly  unpleasant.  "  So  un- 
pleasant," she  said  to  herself,  "  that  it  will  surprise  me 
if  he  comes."  But  though  by  eight  o'clock  the  rain  was 
coming  down  steadily,  at  half-past  eight  she  heard  the 
familiar  heavy  tread  upon  the  door-step,  and  her  visitor 
presented  himself. 

What  sort  of  humor  he  was  in  when  he  made  his  entry 
Bertha  felt  that  it  was  not  easy  to  decide ;  but  it  struck 
her  that  it  was  not  a  usual  humor,  and  that  the  fatigues 
of  the  day  had  left  their  mark  upon  him.  He  looked  by 
no  means  fresh,  and  by  the  time  he  had  seated  himself 
felt  that  something  had  disturbed  him,  and  that  it  was 
true  that  he  needed  distraction. 

It  had  always  been  very  simple  distraction  she  offered 
him ;  he  had  never  demanded  subtleties  from  her  or  any 
very  great  intellectual  effort ;  his  ideas  upon  the  subject 
of  the  feminine  mind  were,  perhaps,  not  so  advanced  as 
they  might  have  been,  and  belonged  rather  to  the  days 
and  surroundings  of  his  excellent,  hard-worked  mother 
and  practical,  unimaginative  sisters  than  to  a  more  bril- 
liant world.  Given  a  comfortable  seat  in  the  pretty 
room,  the  society  of  this  pretty  and  smiling  little  per- 
son, who  poured  out  his  coffee  for  him,  enjoyed  his 
jokes,  and  prattled  gayly  of  things  pleasant  and  amus- 
ing, he  was  perfectly  satisfied.  What  he  felt  the  need 
of  was  rest  and  light  recreation,  cheerfulness,  and  ap- 
preciation, a  sense  of  relief  from  the  turmoil  and  com- 
plications of  the  struggling,  manoauvring,  overreaching, 
ambitious  world  he  lived  in. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  471 

Knowing  this,  Bertha  had  given  him  what  ho  enjoyed, 
and  she  offered  him  no  other  entertainment  this  evening. 
She  gave  him  his  cup  of  coffee,  and  talked  to  him  as  ho 
drank  it,  telling  him  an  amusing  story  or  so  of  the  chil- 
dren or  of  people  he  knew. 

"I  have  been  in  the  nursery  all  day,"  she  said.  "I 
have  been  playing  blind-man's  buff  and  telling  stories. 
You  have  never  been  in  the  nursery,  have  you?  You 
are  not  like  Colonel  Tredennis,  who  thinks  the  society 
there  is  better  than  that  we  have  in  the  parlor." 

"Perhaps  he's  not  so  far  wrong,"  said  her  guest,  bluntly, 
"  though  I  have  never  been  in  the  nursery  myself.  I  have 
a  nursery  of  my  own  up  at  the  Capitol,  and  I  don't 
always  find  it  easy  to  manage." 

"The  children  fight,  I  have  heard,"  said  Bertha,  "and 
sometimes  call  each  other  names ;  and  it  is  even  reported 
that  they  snatch  at  each  other's  toys  and  break  those 
they  cannot  appropriate.  I  am  afraid  the  discipline  is 
not  good !  " 

"It  isn't,"  he  answered,  "or  there  isn't  enough  of  it." 

He  set  his  coffee-cup  down  and  watched  her  as  she 
leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  occupied  herself  with  the 
contents  of  her  work-basket. 

"  Do  you  go  into  the  nursery  often,"  he  asked,  "  or 
is  it  out  of  the  fashion  ?  " 

"  It  is  out  of  the  fashion,"  she  answered,  "  but "  — 
She  stopped  and  let  her  work  rest  on  her  knee  as  she 
held  it.  "  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  ask  me  that?"  she 
said,  and  her  face  changed  as  she  spoke. 

"  I  asked  you  because  I  didn't  know,"  he  answered. 
"  It  seemed  to  me  you  couldn't  have  much  time  for 
things  of  that  sort.  You  generally  seem  to  be  pretty 
busy  with  one  thing  and  another.  I  don't  know  much 
about  fashionable  life  and  fashionable  women.  The 
women  I  knew  when  I  was  a  boy  —  my  own  mothei 
and  her  sisters  —  spent  the  most  of  their  time  with  their 
children ;  and  it  wasn't  such  a  bad  way  either.  They 
were  pretty  good  women." 


472  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION". 

"  Perhaps  it  was  the  best  way,"  said  Bertha,  w  and  1 
dare  say  they  were  better  for  it.  I  dare  say  we  com- 
pare very  unfavorably  with  them." 

"  You  don't  compare  at  all,"  he  returned.  "  I  should 
not  compare  you.  I  don't  know  how  it  would  work 
with  you.  They  got  old  pretty  soon,  and  lost  theii 
good  looks  ;  but  they  were  safe,  kind-hearted  creatures, 
who  tried  to  do  their  duty  and  make  the  best  of  things. 
I  don't  say  they  were  altogether  right  in  their  views 
of  life ;  they  were  narrow,  I  suppose,  and  ran  into 
extremes,  but  they  had  ways  a  man  likes  to  think  of, 
and  did  very  little  mischief." 

w  I  could  scarcely  estimate  the  amount  of  mischief  I 
do,"  said  Bertha,  applying  herself  to  her  work  cheer- 
fully ;  "  but  I  do  not  think  my  children  -are  neglected. 
Colonel  Tredennis  would  probably  give  a  certificate  to 
that  effect.  They  are  clothed  quite  warmly,  and  are 
occasionally  allowed  a  meal,  and  I  make  a  practice  of 
recognizing  them  when  I  meet  them  on  the  street." 

She  was  wondering  if  it  would  not  be  better  to  re- 
serve the  letter  until  some  more  auspicious  occasion. 
It  struck  her  that  in  the  course  of  his  day's  fatigues  he 
had  encountered  some  problem  of  which  he  found  it 
difficult  to  rid  himself.  There  were  signs  of  it  in  his 
manner.  He  wore  a  perturbed,  preoccupied  expression, 
and  looked  graver  than  she  had  ever  seen  him.  He  sat 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  hair  on  end,  his  bluff 
countenance  a  rather  deeper  color  than  usual,  and  his 
eyes  resting  upon  her. 

w  ThLi  isn't  an  easy  world,"  he  said,  w  and  I  suppose 
it  is  no  easier  for  women  than  for  men.  I  shouldn't  like 
to  be  a  woman  myself,  and  have  to  follow  my  leader,  and 
live  in  one  groove  from  beginning  to  end.  It  is  natural 
that  some  should  feel  the  temptation  to  try  to  get  out 
of  it,  and  use  their  power  as  men  use  theirs ;  but  it 
does  not  pay — it  can't.  Women  were  meant  to  be  good 
—  to  be  good  and  honest  and  true,  and  — and  innocent. r 

It  was  an  amazingly  ingenuous  creed,  and  he  pre- 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  473 

sented  it  with  a  rough  simplicity  and  awkwardness 
which  might  have  been  laughable  but  for  their  heavy 
sincerity.  Bertha  felt  this  seriousness  instantaneously, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  in  his  sharp  little  eyes  a  suggestion 
jf  feeling  which  startled  her. 

"  Wondering  what  I'm  thinking  of  ?  "  he  said.  "  Well, 
£  am  thinking  of  you.  I've  thought  of  you  pretty  often 
lately,  and  to-night  I've  a  reason  for  having  you  in  my 
mind." 

"  What  is  the  reason?  "  she  asked,  more  startled  thao 
before. 

He  thrust  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets ;  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  evidences  of  strong  emotion  in 
his  face. 

"I  am  a  friend  of  yours,"  he  said.  "  You  know  that  5 
you've  known  it  some  time.  My  opinion  of  you  is  that 
you  are  a  good  little  woman,  — the  right  sort  of  a  little 
woman,  —  and  I  have  a  great  deal  of  confidence  in  you." 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Bertha. 

She  felt  that  as  he  gained  warmth  and  color  she  lost 
them ;  she  thought  of  the  letter  which  lay  on  the  mantel- 
piece within  a  few  feet  of  him,  and  wished  that  it  was 
not  so  near.  There  had  been  evil  spoken  of  her,  and 
he  had  heard  it.  She  realized  that,  and  knew  that  she 
was  upon  her  defence,  even  while  she  had  no  knowledge 
of  what  she  was  to  defend  herself  against. 

"I  hope  so,"  she  said  again,  tremulously.  "I  hope 
so,  indeed  ; "  and  her  eyes  met  his  with  a  helplessness 
more  touching  than  any  appeal  she  could  have  made. 

It  so  moved  him  that  he  could  remain  quiet  no  longer, 
but  sprang  to  his  feet  and  drew  his  hand  from  his  pocket 
and  rubbed  it  excitedly  over  his  upright  hair. 

"  Damn  it ! "  he  broke  forth,  "  let  them  say  what  they 
will,  --let  what  will  happen,  I'll  believe  in  you  !  Don't 
look  at  me  like  that ;  you  are  a  good  little  woman,  but 
you  are  in  the  wrong  place.  There  are  lies  and  intrigues 
going  on  about  you,  and  you  are  too  —  too  bright  and 
pretty  to  be  judged  fairly  by  outsiders.  You  don't 


474  THROUGH   ONE'  ADMINISTRATION. 

know  what  you  are  mixed  up  in;  how  should  you! 
Who  is  to  tell  you  ?  These  fellows  who  dangle  about 
and  make  fine  speeches  are  too  smooth-tongued,  even 
when  they  know  enough.  I'll  tell  you.  I  never  paid 
you  compliments  or  made  love  to  you,  did  I  ?  I'm  no 
good  at  that ;  but  I'll  tell  you  the  truth,  and  give  you  a 
bit  of  good  advice.  People  are  beginning  to  talk,  you 
see,  and  tell  lies.  They  have  brought  their  lies  to  me ; 
I  don't  believe  them,  but  others  will.  There  are  men 
and  women  who  come  to  your  house  who  will  do  you 
no  good,  and  are  more  than  likely  to  do  you  harm. 
They  are  a  lot  of  intriguers  and  lobbyists.  You  don't 
want  that  set  here.  You  want  honest  friends,  and  an 
innocent,  respectable  home  for  your  children,  and  a 
name  they  won't  be  ashamed  of.  Send  the  whole  set 
packing,  and  cut  yourself  loose  from  them." 

Bertha  stood  up  also.  She  had  forgotten  the  little 
work-basket,  and  still  held  it  in  her  hands,  suspended 
before  her. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,"  she  said,  "  what  the  lies  were, — 
the  lies  you  heard  ?  " 

Perhaps  she  thought,  with  a  hopeless  pang,  they  were 
not  lies  at  all ;  perhaps  he  had  only  heard  what  was  the 
truth,  that  she  had  been  told  to  try  to  please  him,  that 
his  good- will  might  be  gained  to  serve  an  end.  Looked 
at  from  Richard's  stand-point  that  had  been  a  very  inno- 
cent thing ;  looked  at  from  his  stand-point  it  might  seem 
just  what  it  had  seemed  to  herself,  even  in  the  reckless, 
desperate  moment  when  she  had  given  way. 

He  paused  a  moment,  barely  a  moment,  and  then 
answered  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  tf  I  will  tell  you  if  you  want  to  know. 
There  has  been  a  big  scheme  on  hand  for  some  time,  — 
there  are  men  who  must  be  influenced ;  I  am  one  of 
them,  and  people  say  that  the  greater  part  of  tho  work 
is  carried  on  in  your  parlors  here,  and  that  you  were  set 
on  me  because  you  were  a  clever  little  manoeuvrer,  and 
knew  your  business  better  than  I  should  be  hkoly  to 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  475 

suspect.  That  is  what  they  say,  and  that  is  what  1 
must  believe,  because  "  — 

He  stopped  short.  He  had  drawn  nearer  the  mantel- 
piece, and  as  he  spoke  some  object  lying  upon  it  caught 
his  eye.  It  was  the  letter  directed  to  himself,  lying 
with  the  address  upward,  and  he  took  it  in  his  hand. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  demanded.     "  Who  left  it  here  ?  " 

Bertha  stood  perfectly  motionless.  Richard's  worda 
came  back  to  her :  "  Give  it  to  him  if  he  is  in  a  good 
humor.  It  contains  arguments  which  I  think  will  con- 
vince him."  Then  she  looked  at  Blundel's  face.  If 
there  could  be  any  moment  more  unfit  than  another  for 
the  presentation  of  arguments  it  was  this  particular  one. 
And  never  before  had  she  liked  him  so  well  or  valued 
his  good  opinion  so  highly  as  she  did  now,  when  he 
turned  his  common,  angry,  honest  face  upon  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said  again.     "  Tell  me." 

She  thought  of  Richard  once  more,  and  then  of  the 
children  sleeping  upstairs,  and  of  the  quiet,  innocent 
day  she  had  spent  with  them.  They  did  not  know  that 
she  was  an  intriguing  woman,  whom  people  talked  of; 
she  had  never  realized  it  herself  to  the  full  until  this 
moment.  They  had  delicately  forborne  giving  any 
name  to  the  thing  she  had  done ;  but  this  man,  who 
judged  matters  in  a  straightforward  fashion,  would  find 
a  name  for  it.  But  there  was  only  one  answer  for  her 
to  make. 

"  It  is  a  letter  I  was  to  give  you,"  she  said. 

w  And  it  is  from  your  husband  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  read  it,"  she  replied. 

He  stopped  short  a  moment  and  looked  at  her  —  with 
a  sudden  suggestion  of  doubt  and  bewilderment  that 
was  as  bad  as  a  blow. 

"  Look  here  ! "  he  said.  "  You  were  going  to  give  it  to 
me,  —  you  intended  to  do  it." 

"Yes." 

He  gave  her  another  look, — amazement,  anger,  dis- 
belief, struggling  with  each  other  in  it,  —  and  theo 


476  THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

thrust  his  obstinate  fists  into  his  pockets  again  and 
planted  himself  before  her  like  a  rock. 

"  By  the  Lord  ! "  he  said.     "  I  won't  believe  it !  * 

The  hard  common-sense  which  had  been  his  strong- 
hold and  the  stand-by  of  his  constituents  for  many  a 
year  came  to  his  rescue.  He  might  not  know  much  of 
women ;  but  he  had  seen  intrigue,  and  trickery,  and 
detected  guilt,  and  it  struck  him  if  these  things  were 
here,  they  were  before  him  in  a  new  form. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  who  gave  it  to  you." 

"  You  will  know  that,"  she  answered, "  when  you  read 
it." 

"  Tell  me,"  he  demanded,  "  if  you  know  what  is  in  it." 

M I  know  something,"  she  replied,  "  of  what  is  in  it." 

"  By  Jove  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  I'd  give  a  great  deal  to 
know  how  much." 

Only  Richard  could  have  told  him  how  much  or  how 
little,  and  he  was  not  there. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  as  she  made  no  reply,  "  they  might 
easily  deceive  you.  Tell  me  what  you  know,  and  I  will 
believe  you,  —  and  there  are  very  few  women  in  your 
place  I  would  say  as  much  to." 

WI  do  not  think,"  she  answered,  "that  they  have 
deceived  me." 

"Then,"  he  returned,  his  face  hardening,  "yow  have 
deceived  me  I" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  turning  white,  "I  suppose  I 
have." 

There  was  a  moment  of  dead  silence,  in  which  his 
shrewd  eyes*  did  their  work  as  well  as  they  had  done  it 
at  any  time  during  his  fifty  years  of  life.  Then  he  spoke 
to  her  again. 

"  They  wanted  me  here  because  they  wanted  to  make 
use  of  me,"  he  said.  "  You  knew  that." 

"  They  did  not  put  it  in  that  way,"  she  answered. 
"  I  dare  say  you  know  that." 

*  You  were  to  befoci  me  as  far  as  you  could,  and  make 
the  place  agreeable  to  me,  — you  knew  that?  " 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  477 

She  turned  paler. 

w  I  —  I  have  liked  you  very  sincerely  I "  she  broke 
forth,  piteously.  "  I  have  liked  you !  Out  of  all  the 
rest,  that  one  thing  was  true  !  Don't  —  ah,  don't  think 
it  was  not." 

His  expression  for  a  moment  was  a  curiously  unJe- 
cided  one ;  he  was  obliged  to  rally  himself  with  a  sharp 
rub  at  his  hair. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think  of  that  when  you  have 
answered  me  another  question,"  he  said.  "There  is  a 
person  who  has  done  a  great  deal  of  work  in  this  mat- 
ter, and  has  been  very  anxious  about  it,  probably  be- 
cause he  has  invested  in  it  more  money  than  he  can 
spare,  —  buying  lands  and  doing  one  thing  and  another. 
That  person  is  your  husband,  Mr.  Richard  Amory. 
Tell  me  if  you  knew  that." 

The  blood  rushed  to  her  face  and  then  left  it  again. 

"Richard!"  she  exclaimed.  "Richard!"  and  she 
caught  at  the  mantel  and  held  to  it. 

His  eyes  did  not  leave  her  for  an  instant.  He  nod- 
ded his  head  with  a  significance  whose  meaning  was  best 
known  to  himself. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said.     "  I  see  you  did  not  know  that." 

She  did  as  he  told  her.  It  was  as  if  such  a  flash  of 
light  had  struck  across  her  mental  vision  as  half  blinded 
her. 

"Not  Richard  I "  she  cried  out ;  and  even  as  she  said 
it  a  thousand  proofs  rushed  back  upon  her  and  spoke  the 
whole  shameful  truth  for  themselves. 

Blundel  came  nearer  to  her,  his  homely,  angry  face, 
in  spite  of  its  anger,  expressing  honest  good  feeling 
as  strongly  as  any  much  handsomer  one  might  have 
done. 

"  I  knew  there  had  been  deep  work  somewhere,"  he 
said.  "  I  saw  it  from  the  first.  As  for  you,  you  have 
been  treated  pretty  badly.  I  supposed  they  persuaded 
you  that  you  might  as  well  amuse  one  man  as  another, 
—  and  I  was  the  man.  I  dare  say  there  is  more  behind 


478  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION . 

than  I  can  see.     Ycu  had  nothing  to  gain  as  far  as  you 
knew,  that's  plain  enough  to  me." 

"No,"  she  exclaimed,  "it  was  not  I  who  was  to  gain 
They  did  not  think  of—  of  me  !  " 

"  ko,"  he  went  on,  "  they  lost  sight  of  you  rather  often 
when  they  had  a  use  for  you.  It's  apt  to  be  the  way. 
It's  time  some  one  should  think  of  you,  and  I  mean  to 
do  it.  I  am  not  going  to  say  anything  more  against 
those  who  —  made  the  mistake  "  (with  a  resentful  shuffle 
of  his  shoulders  as  he  put  it  thus  mildly) ,  "  than  I  can 
help,  but  I  am  going  to  tell  you  the  truth.  I  have  heard 
ugly  stories  for  some  time,  and  I've  had  my  suspicions 
of  the  truth  of  them ;  but  I  meant  to  wait  for  proof,  and 
it  was  given  me  this  afternoon.  More  was  said  to  me 
than  it  was  safe  to  say  to  an  honest  man,  and  I  let  the 
person  who  talked  go  as  far  as  he  would,  and  he  was 
too  desperate  to  be  cautious.  I  knew  a  bold  move  was 
to  be  made,  and  I  guessed  it  would  be  made  to-night." 

He  took  the  envelope  from  his  pocket  where  he  had 
tucked  it  unopened.  His  face  grew  redder  and  hotter. 

"If  it  were  not  for  you,"  he  said ;  "  if  I  didn't  have 
faith  in  your  being  the  honest  little  woman  I  took  you 
for ;  if  I  didn't  believe  you  spoke  the  truth  when  you 
said  you  liked  me  as  honestly  as  I  liked  you,  —  though 
the  Lord  knows  there  is  no  proof  except  that  I  do  be- 
lieve you  in  spite  of  everything, — I'd  have  the  thing 
spread  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  by  to-morrow 
morning,  and  there  would  be  such  an  uproar  as  the 
country  has  not  seen  for  a  year  or  so." 

"  Wait ! "  said  Bertha,  half-starting  from  her  seat.  "I 
did  not  understand  before.  This  is  too  much  shame.  I 
thought  it  was  —  only  a  letter.  I  did  not  know"  — 

He  went  to  the  fire. 

"  I  believe  that,  too,"  he  said,  grimly ;  "  but  it  is  not  a 
little  thing  I'm  doing.  I'm  denying  myself  a  great  deal. 
I'd  give  five  years  of  my  life" —  He  straightened 
out  his  short,  stout  arm  and  closed  hand  with  a  robust 
gesture,  and  then  checked  himself.  "You  dor 't  knew 


THROUGH    ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  479 

what  is  in  it.     I  don't  know.     I  have  not  looked  at  it. 
There  it  goes."    And  he  tossed  it  into  the  fire. 

"The  biggest  fool  of  all,"  he  said,  f'is  the  fool  who 
takes  every  man  for  a  knave.  Do  they  think  a  country 
like  this  has  been  run  for  a  century  by  liars  and  thieves  ? 
There  have  been  liars  and  thieves  enough,  but  not 
enough  to  bring  it  to  a  stand-still,  and  that  seems  to 
argue  that  there  has  been  an  honest  man  or  sc  to  keep 
a  hand  on  their  throats.  When  there  are  none  left  — 
well,  it  won't  be  as  safe  to  belong  to  the  nation  as  it  is 
to-day,  in  spite  of  all  that's  bad  in  it." 

The  envelope  had  flamed  up,  and  then  died  down  into 
tindery  blackness.  He  pointed  to  it. 

"You. can  say  it  is  there,"  he  said,  "and  that  I  didn't 
open  it, 'and  they  may  thank  you  for  it.  Now  I  am  going." 

Bertha  rose.      She  put  her  hand  on  the  mantel  again. 

"  If  I  do  not  thank  you  as  I  ought,"  she  said,  brokenly, 
"you  must  forgive  me.  I  see  all  that  you  have  spared 
me,  but  —  I  have  had  a  heavy  blow."  He  paused  to  look 
at  her,  rubbing  his  upright  hair  for  the  last  time,  his 
little  eyes  twinkling  with  a  suspicious  brightness,  which 
had  its  softness  too.  He  came  back  and  took  her  hand, 
and  held  it  in  an  awkward,  kindly  clasp. 

"  You  are  a  good  little  woman,"  he  said.  "  I'll  say  it 
to  you  again.  You  were  not  cut  out  to  be  made  anything 
else  of.  You  won't  be  anything  else.  You  are  young  to 
be  disappointed  and  unhappy.  I  know  all  that,  and  there 
doesn't  seem  much  to  say.  Advice  wouldn't  amount  to 
much,  and  I  don't  know  that  there  is  any  to  give." 

They  moved  slowly  toward  the  door  together.  When 
they  stood  upon  the  threshold  he  dropped  her  hand  as 
awkwardly  as  he  had  taken  it,  and  made  a  gesture 
toward  the  stairway,  the  suspicious  brightness  of  his 
eyes  more  manifest  than  ever. 

"Your  children  are  up  there  asleep,"  he  said,  un- 
steadily. "Goto  them." 

And  turning  away,  shrugged  himself  into  his  over- 
coat at  the  hat-stand,  opened  the  door  for  himself,  and 
went  out  of  the  house  without  another  word. 


480  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  last  words  of  his  half-reluctant,  half-exultant 
confession  had  scarcely  left  Richard  Amory's  lips  when 
Tredennis  rose  from  his  chair. 

"If  you  can,"  he  said,  "tell  me  the  literal  truth. 
Blundel  is  at  your  house  with  your  wife.  There  is 
something  she  is  to  do.  What  is  it?" 

"  She  is  to  hand  him  an  envelope  containing  a  slip  of 
paper,"  said  Richard,  doggedly.  "  That  is  what  she  is 
to  do." 

Tredennis  crossed  the  room,  and  took  his  hat  from  its 
place. 

"  Will  you  come  with  me,"  he  said,  w  or  shall  I  go 
alone?"  '" 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Richard. 

Tredennis  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  He  would  not  call  until  late,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "  and 
she  would  not  give  it  to  him  at  once.  It  is  ten  now. 
We  may  reach  there  in  time  to  spare  her  that,  at  least.'' 

Richard  bit  his  lip 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  good  deal  of  talk  of  sparing 
her,"  he  said.  "  Nobody  spares  me.  Every  folly  I 
have  been  guilty  of  is  exaggerated  into  a  crime.  Do 
you  suppose  that  fellow  isn't  used  to  that  sort  of  thing  ? 
Do  you  suppose  I  should  have  run  the  risk  if  he  had 
not  shown  his  hand  this  afternoon?  She  knows  nothing 
of  what  she  is  to  give  him.  There  is  no  harm  done  to 
her." 

"How  is  he  to  know  she  is  not  in  the  plot?"  said 
Tredennis.  "How  is  he  to  guess  that  she  is  not — what 
she  has  been  made  to  seem  to  be  ?  What  insult  is  he 
not  at  liberty  to  offer  her  if  he  chooses?" 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  481 

"'  She  will  take  care  of  herself,"  said  Richard.  w  Let 
her  alone  for  that." 

w By  Heaven!"  said  Tredennis.  *She  has  been  let 
alone  long  enough.  Has  she  ever  been  anything  else 
but  alone  ?  Has  there  been  one  human  creature  among 
all  she  knew  to  help  or  defend  or  guide  her?  Who  has 
given  her  a  thought  so  long  as  she  amused  them  and 
laughed  with  the  rest  ?  Who  "  — 

Richard  got  up,  a  dawning  curiosity  in  his  face. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  he  said.  "  Have  you 
been"  — 

The  words  died  away.  The  colonePs  gleaming  eye 
stopped  him. 

"  We  will  go  at  once,  if  you  please,"  said  Tredennis, 
and  strode  out  of  the  room  before  him. 

When  they  reached  the  house  Bertha  was  still  stand- 
ing where  her  guest  had  left  her  a  few  moments  before, 
and  but  one  glance  at  her  face  was  needed  to  show  both 
of  them  that  something  unusual  had  occurred. 

"  You  have  had  Blundel  here  ?  "  Richard  asked,  wi*i 
an  attempt  at  his  usual  manner,  which  ill-covered  his 
excitement.  "We  thought  we  saw  him  crossing  the 
street." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.     w  He  has  just  left  me." 

She  turned  suddenly  and  walked  back  to  the  hearth. 

"  He  left  a  message  for  you,"  she  said.  "  That  is  it," 
—  and  she  pointed  to  the  last  bit  of  tinder  flickering  on 
the  coals. 

"  The  —  letter  I "  exclaimed  Richard. 

w  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  Do  you  want  Colonel  Tre- 
dennis to  hear  about  the  letter,  Richard,  or  does  he 
know  already  ?  " 

"He  knows  everything,"  answered  Richard,  "  as  every 
one  else  will  to-morrow  or  the  day  after." 

For  a  moment  his  despair  made  him  so  reckless  that 
he  did  not  make  an  effort  at  defence.  He  flung  himself 
into  a  chair  and  gave  up  to  the  misery  of  the  hour. 

w  You  knew,"  said  Bertha,  looking  toward  Tredennis, 


482  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"and  did  not  tell  me.  Yes,  I  forgot, " — with  a  bittei 
little  smile,  — "there  was  something  you  warned  me  of 
once  and  I  would  not  listen,  and  perhaps  you  thought  I 
would  not  listen  now.  If  you  know,  will  you  tell  me 
what  was  in  the  letter?  I  do  not  know  yet,  and  I  want 
to  hear  it  put  into  words.  It  was  money  —  or  an  offer 
of  money?  Tell  me,  if  you  please." 

"It  was  money,*'  said  Richard,  defiantly.  "And  there 
are  others  who  have  taken  the  same  thing  peacefully 
enough." 

"  And  I  was  to  give  it  to  him  because  —  because  he 
was  a  little  more  difficult,  and  seemed  to  be  my  friend. 
Do  all  female  lobbyists  do  such  things,  Richard,  or  was 
I  honored  with  a  special  service  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  the  first  time  it  has  been  done,"  he  an- 
swered, "  and  it  won't  be  the  last." 

"  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  done  it,"  she  returned, 
"  and  it  will  be  the  last.  The  —  risk  is  too  great." 

Her  voice  shook  a  little,  but  it  was  perfectly  cold ; 
and,  though  her  eyes  were  dilated,  such  fire,  as  might 
have  been  in  them  was  quenched  by  some  light  to  which 
it  would  have  been  hard  to  give  a  name. 

"I  do  not  mean  the  risk  to  myself,"  she  said  to 
Richard.  "  That  I  do  not  count.  I  meant  risk  to  you. 
When  he  burned  the  letter  he  said,  *  Tell  them  I  did  it 
for  your  sake,  and  that  it  is  safer  for  them  that  I  did  it.'*" 

"  What  else  did  he  say?"  asked  Richard,  desperately. 
"He  has  evidently  changed  his  mind  since  this  after 
noon." 

"  He  told  me  you  had  a  reason  for  your  interest  in 
the  scheme,  which  was  not  the  one  you  gave  me.  He 
told  me  you  had  invested  largely  in  it,  and  could  not 
afford  to  lose." 

Richard  started  up,  and  turned  helplessly  toward 
Tredennis.  He  had  not  expected  this,  just  yet  at  least. 

"I  — I"—  he  faltered. 

The  colonel  spoke  without  lifting  his  eyes  from  th« 
floor. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  483 


"  Will  you  let  me  explain  that  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  think 
it  would  be  better." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  in  which  Bertha  looked 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"You?  "she  said. 

Richard's  lids  fell.  He  took  a  paper-knife  from  the 
table  he  leaned  against,  and  began  to  play  with  it  ner- 
vously. He  had  become  a  haggard,  coarsened,  weak- 
ened copy  of  himself;  his  hair  hung  in  damp  elf-locks 
over  his  forehead ;  his  lips  were  pale  and  dry ;  he  bit 
them  to  moisten  them. 

"The  money,"  said  Tredennis,  "  was  mine.  It  was  a 
foolish  investment,  perhaps ;  but  the  money  —  was 
mine." 

"  Yours  ! "  said  Bertha.  "  You  invested  in  the  Wes- 
toria  lands  I " 

She  put  her  hand  in  its  old  place  on  the  mantel,  and 
a  strange  laugh  fell  from  her  lips. 

"  Then  I  have  been  lobbying  for  you,  too,"  she  said. 
"  I  —  wish  I  had  been  more  successful." 

Richard  put  his  hand  up,  and  pushed  back  the  damp, 
falling  locks  of  hair  from  his  forehead  restlessly. 

"  /made  the  investment,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  the  per 
son  to  blame,  as  usual ;  but  you  would  have  believed  in 
it  yourself." 

"  Yes,"  she  answered ;  "  I  should  have  believed  in  it, 
I  dare  say.  It  has  been  easy  to  make  me  believe,  but 
I  think  I  should  also  have  believed  in  a  few  other 
things, — in  the  possibility  of  their  being  honor  and 
good  faith"  — 

She  paused  an  instant,  and  then  began  again. 

"  You  told  me  once  that  you  had  never  regarded  me 
seriously.  I  think  that  has  been  the  difficulty — and  per- 
haps it  was  my  fault.  It  will  not  be  necessary  to  use  me 
any  more,  and  I  dare  say  you  will  let  me  go  away  for  a 
while  after  a  week  or  so.  I  think  it  would  be  better." 

She  left  her  place  to  cross  the  room  to  the  door.  OD 
her  way  there  she  paused  before  Colonel  Tredennis. 


484  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

w  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  and  went  on. 

At  the  door  she  stopped  again  one  moment,  fronting 
them  both,  her  head  held  erect,  her  eyes  large  and  bright. 

"When  Senator  Blundel  left  me,"  she  said,  "he  told 
me  to  go  to  my  children.  If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will 

P." 

And  she  made  a  stately  little  bow,  and  left  them. 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  485 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

THE  great  social  event  of  the  following  week  was  to 
be  the  ball  given  yearly  for  the  benefit  of  a  certain  pop- 
ular and  fashionable  charity.  There  was  no  charity  so 
fashionable,  and  consequently  no  ball  so  well  attended ; 
everybody  was  more  or  less  interested ;  everybody  of 
importance  appeared  at  it,  showing  themselves  for  a 
few  moments  at  least.  Even  Mrs.  Merriam,  who  counted 
among  the  privileges  earned  by  a  long  and  unswervingly 
faithful  social  career,  the  one  of  immunity  from  all  ordi- 
nary society  duties,  found  herself  drawn  into  the  mael- 
strom, and  enrolled  on  the  list  of  patronesses. 

w  You  may  do  all  the  work,  my  dear,"  she  said  to 
Mrs.  Sylvestre,  w  and  I  will  appropriate  the  credit." 

But  she  was  not  so  entirely  idle  as  she  professed  to 
be,  and  indeed  spent  several  mornings  briskly  driving 
from  place  to  place  in  her  comfortable  carriage,  and  dis- 
tinguished herself  by  exhibiting  an  executive  ability,  a 
promptness  and  decision  in  difficulty,  which  were  re- 
garded with  secret  awe  and  admiration  by  her  younger 
and  less  experienced  colleagues'.  She  had  been  out 
doing  such  work  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  before  the 
ball,  and  returned  home  at  her  usual  hour ;  but  not  in 
her  usual  equable  frame  of  mind.  This  was  evident 
when  she  entered  the  room  where  Mrs.  Sylvestre  sat 
talking  to  Colonel  Tredennis,  who  had  called.  There 
were  indeed  such  signs  of  mental  disturbance  in  her 
manner  that  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  rising  to  greet  her, 
observed  them  at  once. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  had  an  exciting  morning,"  she 
said,  w  and  have  done  too  much  work." 

w  My  dear,"  was  the  reply,  "  nothing  could  be  mora 
true  than  that  I  have  had  an  exciting  morning." 


48  6  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  am  sorry  for  that,"  said  Agnes. 

"I  am  sorry  for  it,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam  ;  "  more  sorry 
than  I  can  say."  Then  turning  to  Tredennis,  "I  am 
glad  to  find  you  here.  I  have  been  hearing  some  most 
extraordinary  stories ;  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  what 
they  mean." 

"Whom  do  they  concern?"  asked  Agnes.  "We  are 
entertained  by  many  stories." 

"They  will  disturb  you  as  much  as  they  have  disturbed 
me,"  Mrs.  Merriam  answered.     "  They  have  disturbed 
me  very  much.     They  concern  our  little  friend,  Mrs 
Amory." 

"  Bertha  !  "  exclaimed  Agnes. 

Her  tender  heart  beat  quickly,  and  a  faint  flush 
showed  itself  on  her  cheek ;  she  looked  up  at  Colonel 
Tredennis  with  quick,  questioning  eyes.  Perhaps  she 
was  not  as  unprepared  for  the  statement  as  she  might 
have  been.  She  had  seen  much  during  the  last  few 
weeks  which  had  startled  and  alarmed  her.  Mrs.  Mer- 
riam looked  at  Tredennis  also. 

"You  may  be  able  to  guess  something  of  what  the 
rumors  form  themselves  upon,"  she  said.  "Heaven 
knows  there  has  been  enough  foundation  for  anything 
in  that  miserable  Westoria  land  scheme." 

"  You  have  heard  something  of  it  this  morning  ?  "  said 
Tredennis. 

"I  have  heard  nothing  else,"  was  the  answer.  "The 
Westoria  land  scheme  has  come  to  an  untimely  end,  with 
a  flavor  of  scandal  about  it,  which  may  yet  terminate  in 
an  investigation.  The  whole  city  is  full  of  it,  and  sto- 
ries of  Mrs.  Amory  and  her  husband  are  the  entertain- 
ment offered  you  on  all  sides.  I  say  'Mrs.  Amory  and 
her  husband,'  because  it  is  Mrs.  Amory  who  is  the 
favorite  topic.  She  has  been  making  the  most  desper- 
ate efforts  to  influence  people ;  her  parlors  have  been 
filled  with  politicians  and  lobbyists  all  the  season ;  the 
husband  was  deeply  involved  in  the  matter ;  bribes  have 
been  offered  and  taken  ;  there  are  endless  anecdotes  of 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  481 

Senator  Planefield  and  his  infatuation,  and  the  way  in 
which  it  has  been  used.  She  would  have  accomplished 
wonders  if  it  had  not  been  for  Senator  Blundcl,  who 
suspected  her  and  led  her  into  betraying  herself.  It  is 
Senator  Blundel  who  is  credited  with  having  been  the 
means  of  exploding  the  whole  affair.  He  has  been 
privately  investigating  the  matter  for  months,  and  had 
an  interview  with  Mrs.  Amory  the  other  night,  in  which 
he  accused  her  of  the  most  terrible  things,  and  threat- 
ened her  with  exposure.  That  is  the  way  the  stories 
run." 

"  Oh,  this  is  very  cruel,"  said  Agnes.  "  We  must  do 
something.  We  must  try ;  we  cannot  let  such  things 
be  said  without  making  an  effort  against  them." 

"Whatever  is  done  must  be  done  at  once,"  replied 
Mrs.  Merriam.  "  The  conclusion  of  the  matter  is  that 
there  seems  actually  to  be  a  sort  of  cabal  formed  against 
her." 

"You  mean" —  began  Agnes,  anxiously. 

"  I  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  "  that  my  impression 
is  that  if  she  appears  at  the  ball  there  are  those  who  will 
be  so  rude  to  her  that  she  will  be  unable  to  remain." 

"  Aunt  Mildred  I "  exclaimed  Agnes,  in  deep  agitation. 
w  Surely  such  a  thing  is  impossible." 

"It  is  not  only  not  impossible,"  returned  Mrs.  Mer- 
riam, "  but  it  is  extremely  probable.  I  heard  remarka 
which  assured  me  of  that." 

"  She  must  not  go  I "  said  Agnes.  "  We  must  manage 
to  keep  her  at  home.  Colonel  Tredennis  "  — 

"  The  remedy  must  go  deeper  than  that,"  he  answered. 
"  The  fact  that  she  did  not  appear  would  only  postpone 
the  end.  The  slights  she  avoided  one  night  would  be 
stored  up  for  the  future,  we  may  be  sure." 

He  endeavored  to  speak  calmly,  but  it  was  not  easy, 
and  he  knew  too  well  that  such  a  change  had  come  upon 
his  face  as  the  two  women  could  not  but  see.  Though 
he  had  feared  this  climax  so  long,  though  he  had  even 
seen  day  by  day  the  signs  of  its  approach,  it  fell  upon 


488  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

him  as  a  blow  at  last,  and  seemed  even  worse  than  i* 
his  most  anxious  hour  he  had  thought  it  might  be. 

"  She  has  friends,"  he  said ;  "  her  friends  have  friends. 
I  think  there  are  those — besides  ourselves  —  who  will 
defend  her." 

f!They  must  be  strong,"  remarked  Mrs.  Merriam 

"There  are  some  of  them,"  he  answered,  "who  are 
strong.  I  think  I  know  a  lady  whose  opinion  will  not 
go  for  nothing,  who  is  generous  enough  to  use  her  in- 
fluence in  the  right  direction." 

"And  that  direction?"  said  Mrs.  Merriam. 

"If  the  opposing  party  finds  itself  met  by  a  party 
m  >re  powerful  than  itself,"  he  said,  "  its  tone  will  change  ; 
and  as  for  the  story  of  Senator  Blundel  I  think  I  can 
arrange  that  he  will  attend  to  that  himself." 

"Mere  denial  would  not  go  very  far,  I  am  afraid," 
said  Mrs.  Merriam.  "  He  cannot  deny  it  to  two  or  three 
score  of  people." 

"He  can  deny  it  to  the  entire  community,"  he  an- 
swered, "by  showing  that  their  intimacy  remains  un- 
broken." 

"  Ah  ! "  cried  Agnes,  "  if  he  would  only  go  to  the  ball, 
and  let  people  see  him  talking  to  her  as  he  used  to ; 
but  1  am  sure  he  never  went  to  a  ball  in  his  life  I " 

"My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  "that  is  really  a  very 
clever  idea,  if  he  could  be  induced  to  go." 

"He  is  an  honest  man,"  said  Tredennis,  flushing. 
w  And  he  is  her  friend.  I  believe  that  sincerely ;  and 
I  behave  he  would  prove  it  by  going  anywhere  to  serve 
her," 

"If  that  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  "a  great  deal 
will  be  accomplished,  though  it  is  a  little  difficult  to 
figure  to  one's  self  how  he  would  enjoy  a  ball." 

"  I  think  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing," 
replied  the  colonel.  "I  myself" —  He  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  added :  "I  chance  to  have  a  rather 
intimate  acquaintance  with  him  ;  he  has  interested  him- 
self in  3ome  work  of  mine  lately,  and  has  shown  him- 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  488 

self  very  friendly  to  me.  It  would  perhaps  be  easier 
for  me  to  speak  to  him  than  for  any  other  friend  of 
Mrs.  Ainory." 

"I  think  you  would  do  it  better  than  any  other  friend," 
Mrs.  Merriam  said,  with  a  kindly  look  at  him. 

The  truth  was  that,  since  his  first  introduction  to 
Colonel  Tredennis,  Blundel  had  taken  care  that  the 
acquaintance  should  not  drop.  He  had  found  the 
modest  warrior  at  once  useful  and  entertaining.  He 
had  been  able  to  gather  from  him  information  which  it 
was  his  interest  to  count  among  his  stores,  and,  having 
obtained  it,  was  not  ungrateful,  and,  indeed,  was  led  by 
his  appreciation  of  certain  good  qualities  he  recognized 
in  him  into  something  bordering  on  an  attachment  for 
his  new  friend. 

"  I  like  that  fellow,"  he  used  to  say,  energetically. 

And  realizing  something  of  this  friendliness,  and  more 
of  the  honor  and  worth  of  his  acquaintance,  the  colonel 
felt  that  he  might  hope  to  reach  his  heart  by  telling  his 
story  simply  and  with  dignity,  leaving  the  rest  to  him. 
As  for  the  lady  of  whom  he  had  spoken,  he  had  but 
little  doubt  that  that  kind  and  generous  heart  might  be 
reached ;  he  had  seen  evidences  of  its  truth  and  charity 
too  often  to  distrust  them.  It  was,  of  course,  the  wife 
of  the  Secretary  of  State  he  was  thinking  of,  —  that 
good  and  graceful  gentlewoman,  whose  just  and  clear 
judgment  he  knew  he  could  rely  upon,  and  whose 
friendship  would  grant  him  any  favor. 

"  She  is  very  generous  and  sympathetic,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  have  heard  her  speak  most  kindly  of  Mrs.  Amory. 
Her  action  in  the  matter  must  have  weight,  and  I  have 
confidence  that  she  will  show  her  feeling  in  a  manner 
which  will  make  a  deep  impression.  She  has  always 
been  fond  of  Professor  Herrick." 

"  That  is  as  clever  an  idea  as  the  other,"  said  Mrs. 
Merriam.  "  She  has  drawn  her  lines  so  delicately  here- 
tofore that  she  has  an  influence  even  greater  thaa  was 
wielded  by  most  of  those  who  have  occupied  her  poai- 


490  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

tion.      And   she   is   a   decided   and   dignified  person^ 
capable  of  social  subtleties." 

"  Oh  I  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sylvestre,  "  it  seems  very 
hard  that  it  should  be  Bertha  who  should  need  such 
defence." 

"  It  is  miserable,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  impatiently. 
"I!,  is  disgraceful  when  one  considers  who  is  the  person 
to  blame.  It  is  very  delicate  of  us  not  to  use  names, 
I  suppose ;  but  there  has  been  enough  delicacy  —  and 
indelicacy  —  and  I  should  like  to  use  them  as  freely  as 
other  people  do.  I  think  you  remember  that  I  have  not 
been  very  fond  of  Mr.  Richard  Amory." 

When  Colonel  Tredennis  left  them  he  turned  his 
steps  at  once  toward  the  house  of  the  woman  who  was 
his  friend,  and  upon  whose  assistance  so  much  depended. 
To  gain  her  sympathy  seemed  the  first  thing  to  be  done, 
and  one  thought  repeated  itself  again  and  again  in  his 
mind,  "  How  shall  I  say  it  best  ?  " 

But  fortune  favored  him,  and  helped  him  to  speak  as 
he  had  not  anticipated  that  it  would. 

The  lady  sat  alone  in  her  favorite  chair  in  her  favo- 
rite room,  when  he  was  ushered  into  her  presence,  as  he 
had  frequently  happened  to  be  before  somewhere  about 
the  same  hour.  A  book  lay  open  upon  her  lap,  but  she 
was  not  reading  it,  and,  he  fancied,  had  not  been  doing 
so  for  some  time.  He  also  fancied  that  when  she  saw 
him  her  greeting  glance  had  a  shade  of  relief  in  it,  and 
her  first  words  seemed  to  certify  that  he  was  not  mis- 
taken. 

"I  am  more  than  usually  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said. 
•'  I  think  that  if  you  hkd  not  appeared  so  opportunely 
T  should  have  decided  in  about  half  an  hour  that  I  must 
send  for  you." 

"1  am  very  fortunate  to  have  come,"  he  answered, 
and  he  held  her  kind  hand  a  moment,  and  there  came 
into  his  face  a  look  so  anxious  that,  being  in  the  habit 
of  observing  him,  she  saw  it. 

"Are  you  very  well?"  she  asked,  gently.     "I  am 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

afraid  not.  You  are  rather  pale.  Sit  down  by  my 
chair  and  let  me  look  at  you." 

"  Am  I  pale  ?  "  said  the  colonel.  w  You  are  very  good 
to  notice  it,  though  I  am  not  ill.  I  am  only  —  cnly  " — 

She  looked  at  him  with  grave  interest. 

"Have  you,"  siie  said, — "have  you  heard  ill  news  of 
some  friend  ?  Is  that  it  ?  I  am  afraid  it  is  ! " 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "that  is  it;  and  I  ana  afraid 
you  have  heard  of  it,  too." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  have,"  she  returned.  "  Such  things 
travel  quickly.  I  have  heard  something  which  has  dis- 
tressed me  very  much.  It  is  something  I  have  heard 
faint  rumors  of  before,  but  now  it  has  taken  on  a  defi- 
nite form.  This  morning  I  was  out,  and  this  afternoon 
I  have  had  some  callers  who  were  not  averse  to  speak- 
ing plainly.  I  have  heard  a  great  many  things  said 
which  have  given  me  pain,  and  which  embarrass  me  se- 
>iously.  That  was  the  reason  I  was  wishing  to  see  you. 
I  felt  that  you  would  at  least  tell  me  a  story  without 
prejudice.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  prejudice  shown, 
of  course.  We  need  expect  nothing  else.  I  am  sure 
Professor  Herrick  can  know  nothing  of  this.  Will  you 
tell  me  what  you  yourself  know  ?  " 

"That  is  what  I  came  to  do,"  said  the  colonel,  still 
paler,  perhaps.  "There  is  a  great  deal  to  tell  —  more 
than  the  world  will  ever  know.  It  is  only  to  such  as 
/•ou  that  it  could  be  told." 

There  was  more  emotion  in  his  voice  and  face  than  he 
had  meant  to  reveal ;  perhaps  something  in  the  kind 
anxiousness  of  his  companion's  eyes  moved  him ;  he 
found  that  he  could  not  sit  still  and  speak  as  if  his  in- 
terest was  only  the  common  one  of  an  outsider,  so  he 
rose  and  stood  before  her. 

n  1  cannot  even  tell  you  how  it  is  that  I  know  what  I 
do  to  be  true,"  he  said.  "I  have  only  my  word,  but  I 
know  you  will  believe  me." 

"You  may  be  sure  of  that,"  she  answered. 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  he  returned,  "or  I  should  not  be 


192  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

bere,  for  I  have  no  other  proof  to  offer.  I  came  to 
make  an  appeal  to  you  in  behalf  of  a  person  who  has 
been  wronged." 

"In  behalf  of  Mrs.  Amory?"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "  though  she  does  not  know  I  am 
here,  and  will  never  know  it.  It  scarcely  seems  my 
business,  perhaps;  she  should  have  others  to  defend 
her;  but  there  aie  no  others  who,  having  the  interest 
of  relationship,  might  not  be  accused  of  self-interest  too. 
There  is  a  slight  tie  of  kinship  between  us,  but  it  is  only 
a  slight  one,  and  we  have  not  always  been  very  good 
friends,  perhaps,  though  it  must  have  been  my  own 
fault.  I  think  I  never  pleased  her  very  well,  even  when 
I  saw  her  oftenest.  She  was  used  to  brighter  com- 
panionship. But  her  father  liked  me ;  we  were  friends, 
warm  and  close.  I  have  felt  almost  as  if  I  was  his  son, 
and  have  tried  to  spare  him  the  knowledge  of  what 
would  have  hurt  him.  During  the  last  few  weeks  I 
think  he  has  had  suspicions  which  have  disturbed  him, 
but  they  have  not  been  suspicions  of  trouble  to  his 
child." 

"I  felt  sure  of  that,"  the  lady  remarked. 

"  She  has  no  suspicions  of  the  true  aspect  of  affairs," 
he  continued,  "  though  she  has  lately  gained  knowledge 
of  the  wrong  done  her.  It  has  been  a  great  wrong. 
She  has  not  been  spared.  Her  inexperience  made  her 
a  child  in  the  hands  of  those  who  used  her  as  their  tool. 
She  understands  now  that  it  is  too  late  —  and  it  is  very 
bitter  to  her." 

"  You  knew  her  when  she  was  a  girl,"  his  companion 
said,  with  her  kind  eyes  on  his  sad,  stern  face. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "when  she  was  a  girl  and 
happy,  and  with  all  of  life  before  her,  and  —  she  did 
not  fear  it." 

"I  knew  her,  too,"  she  replied.  "She  has  greatly 
changed  since  then." 

"I  saw  that  when  I  returned  here,"  he  said.  And 
he  turned  his  head  aside  and  began  to  take  up  and  set 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION .  493 

down  a  trifle  on  the  mantel.  "  At  first  I  did  not  under- 
stand it,"  he  added.  "  Now  I  do.  She  has  not  changed 
without  reason.  If  she  has  seemed  light,  there  are 
women,  I  suppose,  who  hide  many  a  pain  in  that  way. 
She  has  loved  her  children,  and  made  them  happy  — 
I  know  that,  at  least  —  and  —  and  she  has  been  a  kind 
wife  and  an  innocent  woman.  It  is  her  friends  who 
must  defend  her." 

"  She  needs  their  defence,"  said  his  hearer.  "  I  felt 
that  when  I  was  out  this  morning,  and  when  my  callers 
were  with  me,  an  hour  ago."  She  held  out  her  hand 
with  sympathetic  frankness.  "I  am  her  friend,"  she 
said,  "and  her  father's  —  and  yours.  I  think  you 
have  some  plan;  there  is  something  you  wish  me  to 
do.  Tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  there  is  something  I  wish  you 
to  do.  No  one  else  can  do  it  so  well.  There  are 
people  who  intend  to  testify  to  their  belief  in  the  stories 
they  have  heard  by  offering  her  open  slights.  It  is 
likely  that  the  attempt  will  be  made  to-morrow  night  at 
the  ball.  If  you  testify  to  your  disbelief  and  disap- 
proval by  giving  her  your  protection,  the  popular 
theory  will  be  shaken,  and  there  will  be  a  reaction  in 
her  favor." 

"  It  is  not  to  be  denied,"  she  said,  "  that  it  is  only 
women  who  can  aid  her.  It  is  women  who  say  these 
things,  as  a  rule,  and  who  can  unsay  them.  The 
actions  of  men  in  such  matters  are  of  less  weight 
than  they  should  be,  though  it  is  true  there  is  one 
man  who  might  do  her  a  service"  — 

*  You  are  thinking  of  Senator  Blundel,"  he  said. 
"  I  —  we  have  thought  of  that.  We  think  —  hope  that 
he  will  come  to  the  ball." 

"If  he  does,  and  shows  himself  friendly  toward  her," 
she  returned,  "nothing  more  can  be  said  which  could 
be  of  much  importance.  He  is  the  hero  of  the  story, 
as  I  dare  say  you  have  heard.  If  he  remains  her  friend, 
that  proves  that  he  did  not  accuse  her  of  plotting  against 


494  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

him,  and  that  he  has  no  cause  for  offence.  If  the  stoij 
of  the  grand  scene  between  them  is  untrue,  the  founda« 
tion-stone  is  taken  away,  and,  having  the  countenance 
of  a  few  people  who  show  their  confidence  with  tact  and 
discretion,  she  is  sal  a.  I  will  go  to  the  ball,  my  friend, 
and  I  will  use  what  influence  I  possess  to  insure  that 
eh(  is  not  badly  treated." 

I  knew  you  would  be  kind  to  her,"  Tredennis  said, 
with  kindling  eyes.  "  I  have  seen  you  kind  before  to 
those  who  needed  kindness,  even  to  those  who  did  not 
deserve  it  —  and  she  does  1 " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  am  sure  she  does!"  she  answered. 
"Poor  child!  Poor  child!" 

And  she  gave  him  her  hand  again,  and,  as  he  wrung 
it  in  his,  her  eyes  were  fuller  of  sympathy  than  ever. 

He  reached  Senator  Blunders  rooms  an  hour  later, 
and  found  him  in  the  midst  of  his  papers  and  pigeon- 
holes, —  letters  and  pamphlets  to  right  of  him,  to  left 
of  him,  before  and  behind  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  by  way  of  greeting,  "  our  Westoria 
friends  are  out  of  humor  this  morning." 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  Tredennis  answered. 

"And  they  may  well  be  —  they  may  well  be," 
he  said,  nodding  sharply.  "  And  there  are  some  fine 
stories  told,  of  course." 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you  one  myself,  sir,"  said 
Tredennis. 

w  What ! "  cried  Blundel,  turning  on  his  chair,  —  "  you 
have  a  story  ?  " 

"Yes,"  returned  the  colonel,  "not  a  pleasant  one, 
and  as  it  concerns  you  I  will  waste  as  few  words  as 
possible." 

He  wasted  no  words  at  all.  The  story  was  a  brief  one, 
but  a 3  forcible  as  simple  words  could  make  it.  There 
was  no  effort  to  give  it  effectiveness,  and  yet  there 
were  touches  her  3  and  there  which  appealed  to  the  man 
who  heard  it  as  he  had  been  rarely  appealed  to  before. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  495 

They  brought  before  him  things  which  had  found  a 
lodging  in  corners  of  his  practical  political  mind,  and 
had  haunted  him  rather  pathetically  since  the  night  he 
had  shrugged  himself  into  his  overcoat,  and  left  the 
slight,  desolate-looking  figure  behind  him.  He  had 
enjoyed  "his  friendship  too  much  not  to  regret  it  now 
that  he  felt  it  was  a  thing  of  the  past ;  he  had  felt  the 
loss  more  than  once  of  the  new  element  it  had  intro- 
duced into  his  life,  and  had  cast  about  in  his  mind  in 
vain  for  a  place  where  he  could  spend  a  spare  hour  or 
so  as  pleasantly  as  he  had  often  spent  such  hours  in  a 
bright  parlor  he  knew  of.  Before  Tredennis  had  half 
finished  his  relation  he  was  moving  restlessly  in  his 
chair,  and  uttering  occasional  gruff  ejaculations,  and 
when  it  came  to  an  end  he  sprang  up,  looking  not  a 
trifle  heated. 

"That's  it,  is  it?"  he  exclaimed.  "They  have  been 
inventing  something  new  about  her,  have  they,  and 
dragged  me  into  it  into  the  bargain?  And  they  are 
making  up  plots  against  her, — poor  little  woman  I  —  as 
if  she  hadn't  been  treated  badly  enough.  A  lot  of  gos- 
sips, I'll  wager ! " 

"  Some  of  them  are  good  enough,"  said  the  colonel. 
"  They  only  mean  to  signify  their  disapproval  of  what 
they  would  have  the  right  to  condemn  if  it  were  a 
truth  instead  of  a  lie." 

"  Well,  they  shall  not  do  it  at  my  expense,  that's  all," 
*vas  the  answer.  M  It  is  a  lie  from  beginning  to  end,  and 
£  will  do  something  toward  proving  it  to  them.  I  don't 
disapprove  of  her,  —  they  shall  see  that.  She's  a  genuine 
good  little  thing.  She's  a  lady.  Any  fool  can  see  that. 
She  won  me  over,  by  George !  when  everything  was 
against  her.  And  she  accused  nobody  when  she  might 
have  said  some  pretty  hard  true  things,  and  nine  women 
out  of  ten  would  have  raised  the  very  deuce.  She's  got 
courage,  and  —  yes,  and  dignity,  and  a  spirit  of  her  own 
that  has  helped  her  to  bear  many  a  bitter  thing  without 
losing  her  hold  on  herself,  I'd  be  willing  to  swear.  Look 


496  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

here,"  he  added,  turning  suddenly  and  facing  Tredennis, 
"  how  much  do  you  know  of  her  troubles  ?  Something, 
I  know,  or  you  wouldn't  be  here." 

"  Yes," answered  the  colonel,  "I  know  something." 

"Well,"  he  continued,  in  an  outburst  of  feeling,  "I 
don't  ask  how  much.  It's  enough,  I  dare  say,  to  mako 
it  safe  for  me  to  speak  my  mind,  — I  mean  safe  for  her, 
not  for  myself.  There's  a  fellow  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  here  I  should  like  to  thrash  within  an  inch  of  his  life  ; 
and  an  elegant,  charming,  amiable  fellow  he  is  too,  who, 
possibly,  persuaded  himself  that  he  was  doing  her  very 
little  injury." 

"  The  injury  has  been  done  nevertheless,"  said  Tre- 
dennis,  gravely.  "And  it  is  her  friends  who  must  right  it." 

"I'm  willing  to  do  my  share,"  said  Blundel.  "  And 
let  that  fellow  keep  out  of  my  way.  As  to  this  ball  — 
I  never  went  to  a  ball  in  my  life,  but  I  will  appear  at 
this  one,  and  show  my  colors.  Wait  a  minute  !  "  As 
If  an  idea  had  suddenly  struck  him.  "  Go  to  the  ball? 
—  I'll  take  her  there  myself." 

The  spirit  of  combat  was  aroused  within  him ;  the 
idea  presented  itself  to  him  with  such  force  that  he  quite 
enjoyed  it.  Here,  arraigned  on  one  side,  were  these 
society  scandal-mongers  and  fine  ladies ;  here,  on  the 
other,  was  himself,  Samuel  Blundel,  rough  and  blunt, 
but  determined  enough  to  scatter  them  and  their  lies  to 
the  four  winds.  He  rather  revelled  in  the  thought  of 
the  struggle,  if  struggle  there  was  t )  be.  He  had  taken 
active  part  in  many  a  row  in  the  House  in  which  the 
odds  had  been  against  him,  and  where  his  obstinate 
strength  had  outlived  the  subtle  readiness  of  a  dozen 
apparently  better  equipped  men.  And  his  heart  was 
in  this  deed  of  valor  too ;  it  glowed  within  him  as  he 
thought  how  much  really  depended  upon  him.  Now, 
this  pretty,  bright  creature  must  turn  to  him  for  pro- 
tection and  support.  He  almost  felt  as  if  he  held  her 
gloved  hand  resting  upon  his  burly  arm  already  with  • 
clinging  touch. 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  491 

"  I'll  take  her  myself,"  he  repeated.  w  I'll  go  and  see 
her  myself,  and  explain  the  necessity  of  it  —  if  «he  does 
not  know  all." 

"  She  does  not  know  all  yet,"  said  Tredennis,  "  and  1 
think  she  was  scarcely  inclined  to  go  to  the  ball ;  but  I 
am  sure  it  Tnll  be  better  that  she  should  go." 

r  She  will  go,"  said  Blundel,  abruptly.  "  I'll  make 
her.  She  knows  me.  She  will  go  if  I  tell  her  she 
must.  That  is  what  comes  of  being  an  old  fellow,  you 
see,  and  not  a  lady's  man." 

He  had  not  any  doubt  of  his  success  with  her,  and, 
to  tell  the  truth,  neither  had  Colonel  Tredennis.  He 
saw  that  his  blunt  honesty  and  unceremonious,  half- 
paternal  domineering  would  prove  to  her  that  he  was 
in  the  right,  even  if  she  were  at  first  reluctant ;  and 
this  being  settled,  and  the  matter  left  in  Blundel's hands, 
the  colonel  went  away.  Only  before  going  he  said  a 
few  words,  rather  awkwardly. 

"  There  would  be  nothing  to  be  gained  by  mentioning 
my  name,"  he  said.  "  It  is  mere  accident  that  —  that  I 
(.•hance  to  know  what  I  have  spoken  of.  She  does  not 
know  that  I  know  it.  I  should  prefer  that  she  should 
not." 

"What!"  said  Blundel, — "she  is  not  to  know  how 
you  have  been  standing  by  her  ?  " 

"  She  knows  that  I  would  stand  by  her  if  she  needed 
me.  She  does  not  need  me  ;  she  needs  you.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  I  don't  wish  to  be  men- 
tioned." 

When  he  was  gone  Blundel  rubbed  his  hair  backward 
and  then  forward  by  way  of  variety. 

" Queer  fellow  I  "  he  said,  meditatively.  "Not  quite 
euie  I've  exactly  got  at  him  yet.  Brave  as  a  lion  and 
ahy  as  a  boy.  Absolutely  afraid  of  women." 


4&8  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER    XXXVH. 

IN  lows  than  an  hour  his  card  was  brought  to  Berlht 
AS  she  sat  with  her  children.  She  read  it  with  a  beat- 
ing heart,  and,  having  done  so,  put  down  Meg  and  her 
picture-book. 

"I  will  go  down  at  once,"  she  said  to  the  servant. 

In  two  minutes  she  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
parlor,  and  her  guest  was  holding  her  hand  in  his,  and 
looking  at  her  earnestly  and  curiously. 

"You  didn't  expect  to  see  me  here,  did  you?"  he 
said. 

"No,"  she  answered ;  "  but  you  are  kind  to  come." 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  be  here  myself,"  he  said.  "  Where 
\/  is  your  husband?  Somebody  told  me  he  had  gone 
away." 

"  He  is  in  New  York,"  she  replied. 

He  gave  her  one  of  his  sharp  glances  and  drew  her 
toward  a  chair. 

"  Sit  down  by  me,"  he  said.  "  You  are  in  no  condi- 
tion to  be  kept  standing.  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  You 
mustn't  look  like  that,"  he  said.  "  It  won't  do.  You 
are  worn  out,  but  you  mustn't  give  up.  I  have  come  to 
order  you  to  do  something." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me,"  she  answered. 

"You  will?  Well,  that's  good  I  I  thought  you 
would,  too.  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  this  ball  that  is 
to  be  given  t3-morrow  night." 

She  started  in  amazement. 

"  To  the  ball ! "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Surprises  you,  doesn't  it?  I  supposed  it  would ;  it 
surprises  me  a  little,  but  I  want  to  go  never  the  'ess,  and 
(  have  a  reason." 

"I  am  sure  it  is  a  gcx>d  one,"  she  said. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  499 

"  It  is,"  he  answered.  "  None  but  the  best  \*  ould  take 
tne  there.  I  never  went  to  a  ball  in  my  life.  You  are 
the  reason.  I  am  going  to  take  care  of  you" 

A  faint,  sad  smile  touched  her  lips. 

"Some  one  has  said  something  more  against  me,' 
she  said,  "  and  you  want  to  defend  me.  Don't  take  the 
trouble.  It  is  not  worth  while." 

"The  place  is  full  of  lies  about  you,"  he  answered, 
suddenly  and  fiercely.  "  And  I  am  going  to  defend  you. 
No  one  else  can.  They  are  lies  that  concern  me  as  well 
as  you." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  they  are  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  saw  there  was  no  room  for  hesitation,  and  told  her 
what  the  facts  were.  As  he  spoke  he  felt  that  they  did 
not  improve  in  the  relation,  and  he  saw  the  blood  rise  to 
her  cheeks,  and  a  light  grow  in  her  eyes.  When  he  had 
finished  the  light  was  a  brilliant  spark  of  fire. 

"  It  is  a  charming  story,"  she  said. 

"  We  will  show  them  what  sort  of  a  story  it  is,"  he 
answered,  "  to-morrow  night !  " 

"You  are  very  good  to  me,"  she  said. 

Suddenly  jhe  put  her  hand  to  her  side. 

"  Ah ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  it  seems  very  strange  that 
they  should  be  saying  these  things  of  Bertha  Amory." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  hopeless  appeal  in  her 
eyes. 

"Do  they  all  believe  them?"  she  said.  "Ah,  how 
can  they  ?  They  know  I  was  not  —  like  that !  I  have 
not  done  anything !  I  have  been  unhappy,  but  —  bul 
I"  — 

She  stopped  a  moment  —  or  was  stopped  by  her 
breaking  voice. 

"  This  has  been  too  much  for  you,"  he  said.  "  You 
are  ill,  child  !  " 

"  I  have   been   ill   for  some   time,"  she   answered 
"  And  the  last  few  days  have  been  very  hard." 

She  made  an  effort  to  recover  herself. 


500  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"I  will  go  to  the  ball,"  she  said,  "if  you  think  it 
best." 

"It  is  best,"  he  replied.  "And  you  need  not  be 
afraid  *  — 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  interposed,  quickly,  and  the 
spark  of  fire  showed  itself  in  her  eyes  again.  "  I  might 
allow  myself  to  be  beaten,  if  it  were  not  for  my  chil- 
dren ;  but,  as  it  is,  you  will  see  that  I  will  not  be 
beaten.  I  will  be  well  for  to-morrow  night  at  least. 
1  will  not  look  like  a  victim.  They  will  see  that  I 
am  not  afraid." 

"It  is  they  who  will  be  beaten,"  said  Blundel,  "if 
anything  depends  on  me  !  Confound  it !  I  shall  like 
to  do  it." 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  501 


CHAPTER  XXXVm. 

HE  went  home  quite  eager  for  the  fray,  and  his 
eagerness  was  not  allowed  to  flag.  The  favorite  story 
came  to  his  ears  again  and  again.  Men  met  him  in  the 
streets,  and  stopped  to  speak  of  it ;  others  dropped 
into  his  rooms  to  hear  the  truth  from  himself,  when  ho 
went  to  his  hotel  to  dine ;  talkers  standing  in  groups  in 
the  lobbies  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  when  he  had 
passed  them  returned  to  their  conversation  with  re- 
newed interest.  To  the  first  man  who  referred  to  the 
matter  he  listened  until  he  had  said  his  say.  Then  he 
answered  him. 

"You  want  to  hear  the  truth  about  that,"  he  said, 
"don't  you?" 

"  That,  of  course,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  you  want  to  be  able  to  tell  the  truth  about  it 
when  you  are  asked  questions  ?  " 

"Most  certainly." 

"Well,  then,  the  truth  is  that  there  isn't  a  word  of 
truth  in  it  from  beginning  to  end ;  and  if  you  want  to 
tell  the  truth,  say  it's  a  lie,  and  add  that  I  said  so,  and 
I  am  prepared  to  say  so  to  every  man  who  wants  to  in- 
terview me ;  and,  what  is  more,  every  man  who  tells 
another  that  it  is  a  lie  does  me  a  favor  that  gives  him  a 
claim  on  me." 

He  repeated  the  same  thing  in  effect  each  time  an 
opportunity  presented  itself,  and  as  these  opportunities 
were  frequent  and  each  time  he  gained  something  of  heat 
and  lost  something  of  temper  and  patience,  he  was  some- 
what tired  and  by  no  means  in  the  best  of  humors  when 
he  sat  down  to  his  dinner,  in  the  big,  glaring,  crowded 
hotel  dining-room,  amid  the  rattle  of  knives,  forks,  and 
crockery,  the  lushing  to  and  fro  of  excited  waite  •$,  and 


502  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

the  incoming  and  outgoing  of  hungry  people.  His  calm< 
ness  was  not  added  to  by  observing  that  the  diners  at 
the  tables  near  him  discovered  him  as  with  one  accord 
almost  as  soon  as  he  entered,  and  cast  glances  of  interest 
at  him  between  the  courses. 

w  Perfectly  dreadful  scene,  they  say,"  he  heard  one 
lady  remark,  with  an  unconscious  candor  born  of  her 
confidence  that  the  clatter  of  dishes  would  drown  all 
sound.  "  Went  down  on  her  knees  to  him  and  wrung 
her  hands,  imploring  him  to  have  mercy  on  her.  Hus- 
band disappeared  next  day.  Quite  society  people  too. 
She  has  been  a  great  deal  admired." 

What  further  particulars  the  speaker  might  have 
entered  into  there  is  no  knowing,  as  she  was  a  com- 
municative person  and  plainly  enjoyed  her  subject ;  but 
just  at  this  juncture  the  lady  to  whom  she  was  confiding 
her  knowledge  of  the  topics  of  the  hour  uttered  an  un- 
easy exclamation. 

"  Gracious  I  Maria  I "  she  said.  "  He  has  heard  you  ! 
I  am  sure  he  has  !  He  has  turned  quite  red  —  leddei 
than  he  was  —  and  he  is  looking  at  us  !  O  Maria ! " 
in  accents  sepulchral  with  fright,  "  he  is  getting  up  ! 
He  is  coming  to  speak  to  us  !  O  —  Mari ! "  — 

He  was  upon  them  at  that  very  moment.  He  was 
accustomed  to  public  speaking,  and  his  experience  led 
him  to  the  point  at  once.  He  held  his  newspaper  half 
folded  in  his  hand,  and,  as  had  been  said,  he  was  a  trifle 
redder  than  usual ;  but  his  manner  was  too  direct  to  be 
entirely  devoid  of  dignity. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "but  my  name  is 
Blundel." 

The  most  hopelessly  terrified  of  the  ladies  found  her- 
self saying  that  he  "  was  very  kind,"  and  the  one  who 
had  told  the  story  gasped  faintly,  but  with  an  evident 
desire  to  propitiate,  that  she  "had  heard  so." 

w  I  take  the  liberty  of  mentioning  it,"  he  added,  "  be- 
cause I  have  been  sitting  quite  near  to  you  and  chanced 
to  overhear  what  you  were  saying,  and  as  you  are  evi- 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  503 

dently  laboring  under  an  impression  I  am  interested  in 
correcting,  I  felt  obliged  to  intrude  on  you  with  a  view 
to  correcting  it.  I  have  been  denying  that  story  all  day. 
It  isn't  true.  Not  a  word  of  it.  I  never  said  an  unkind 
word  to  the  lady  you  mention,  and  I  never  had  an  un- 
kind thought  of  her.  No  one  has  any  right  to  speak  ill 
of  her.  I  am  her  friend.  You  will  excuse  my  inter- 
rupting you.  Here  is  my  card."  And  he  laid  the  card 
on  the  table,  made  a  bow  not  so  remarkable  for  grace, 
perhaps,  as  for  perfect  respectfulness,  and  marched  back 
to  his  table. 

There  were  few  people  in  the  room  who  did  not  turn 
to  look  at  him  as  he  sat  down  again,  and  nine  out  of 
ten  began  to  indulge  in  highly  colored  speculations  as 
to  why  he  had  addressed  the  women  and  who  they  were. 
There  had  never  been  a  more  popular  scandal  than  the 
Westoria  land  scheme ;  the  magnitude  of  it,  the  element 
of  romance  connecting  itself  with  it,  the  social  position 
of  the  principal  schemers,  all  endeared  it  to  the  public 
heart.  Blundel  himself  had  become  a  hero,  and  had 
the  rumors  regarding  his  irreproachable  and  dramatic 
conduct  only  been  rife  at  a  time  of  election  they  would 
have  assured  him  an  overwhelming  majority.  Perhaps 
as  he  approached  the  strangers'  table  there  had  been  a 
fond,  nickering  hope  cherished  that  these  two  apparently 
harmless  women  were  lobbyists  themselves,  and  that 
their  disguise  was  to  be  rent  from  them,  and  their  in- 
iquities to  be  proclaimed  upon  the  spot.  But  the  brief 
episode  ended  with  apparent  tameness,  and  the  general 
temperature  was  much  lowered,  the  two  ladies  sinking 
greatly  in  public  opinion,  and  the  interest  in  Blundel 
himself  flagging  a  little.  There  was  one  person,  how- 
ever, who  did  not  lose  interest  in  him.  This  was  a  little, 
eager,  birdlike  woman  who  sat  at  some  distance  from 
him,  at  a  small  table,  alone.  She  had  seen  his  every 
movement  since  his  entrance,  and  her  bright,  dark  eyes 
followed  him  with  an  almost  wistful  interest.  It  was 
Mifls  Jessup  ;  and  Miss  Jessup  was  full  to  the  brim,  ami 


504  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

pressed  down  and  running  over,  with  anecdotes  of  tlit 
great  scandal,  and  her  delicate  little  frame  almost  trem- 
bled with  anxious  excitement  as  she  gazed  upon  him 
and  thought  of  what  might  be  done  in  an  interview. 

He  had  nearly  finished  his  dinner  before  he  caught 
sight  of  her,  but  as  he  was  taking  his  coffee  he  glanced 
down  the  room,  saw  and  recognized  her. 

"  The  very  woman  !  "  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath. 
"Why  didn't  I  think  of  that  before?"  And  in  five 
minutes  Miss  Jessup's  heart  was  thrilled  within  her,  for 
he  had  approached  her,  greeted  her,  and  taken  the  seat 
she*  offered  him. 

"I  have  come,"  he  said,  "to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 

"  Of  me  !  "  said  Miss  Jessup.  "  That  does  not  sound 
exactly  natural.  I  have  generally  asked  favors  of  you. 
I  have  just  been  looking  at  you  and  making  up  my 
mind  to  ask  one." 

"  Wanted  to  interview  me,"  he  asked,  —  "  didn't 
you?" 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  her  bright  eyes  brightened. 

"  Well,"  sturdily,  "  I  want  you  to  interview  me.  Go 
ahead  and  do  it." 

"You  want  to  be  interviewed  !  "  she  exclaimed,  posi- 
tively radiant  with  innocent  joy.  "  No  I  Keally  ?  " 

"  I  am  here  for  that  purpose,"  he  answered. 

She  left  her  seat  instantly. 

"  Come  into  the  parlor,"  she  said.  "  It  is  quiet  there 
at  this  time.  We  can  sit  where  we  shall  not  be  dis- 
turbed at  all." 

They  went  into  the  parlor  and  found  at  the  far  end 
of  it  the  quiet  corner  they  needed,  and  two  chairs. 
Miss  Jessup  took  one  and  Blundel  the  other,  which 
enabled  him  to  present  his  broad  back  to  all  who 
entered.  Almost  before  he  was  seated  Miss  Jessup 
had  produced  her  neat  note-book  and  a  pencil. 

"Now,"  she  said,  "I  am  ready  for  anything ;  but  I 
must  say  I  don't  see  how  I  am  favoring  you" 

"  You  are  going  to  favor  me  by  saving  me  the  trouble 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  506 

of  contradicting  a  certain  story  every  half-hour,"  he 
said. 

"Ah !  "  ejaculated  Miss  Jessup,  her  countenance  fall- 
ing a  little  ;  "  it  is  not  true  ?  " 

"Not  a  word  of  it." 

Humane  little  creature  as  she  was,  as  she  glanced 
down  at  her  note-book,  Miss  Jessup  felt  that  some  one 
had  been  a  trifle  defrauded. 

"  And  there  was  no  scene  ?  " 

"No." 

"And  you  did  not  threaten  to  expose  her?" 

"No."' 

"  And  you  wish  me  to  tell  people  that  ?  " 

"Yes,  as  pointedly  as  possible,  in  as  few  words  ai 
possible,  and  without  mentioning  names  if  possible." 

"  Oh,  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  mention  names ; 
everybody  would  understand  the  slightest  reference." 

"  Well,  when  you  have  done  that,"  said  Blundel,  "you 
have  granted  me  my  favor." 

"  Anji  you  want  it  to  be  brief?  "  said  Miss  Jessup. 

"See1  here,"  said  Blundel;  "you  are  a  woman.  I 
want  you  to  speak  the  truth  for  another  woman  as 
plainly,  and — as  delicately  as  a  woman  can.  A  man 
would  say  too  much  or  too  little ;  that  is  why  I  come 
to  you." 

She  touched  her  book  with  her  pencil,  and  evidently 
warmed  at  once. 

"I  always  liked  her,"  she  said,  with  genuine  good 
feeling,  "  and  I  could  not  help  hoping  that  the  story  was 
not  true,  after  all.  As  it  was  public  property,  it  was 
my  business  to  find  out  all  about  it  if  I  could ;  but  I 
couldn't  help  being  sorry.  I  believe  I  can  say  the  right 
thing,  and  I  will  do  my  best.  At  any  rate,  it  will  be 
altogether  different  from  the  other  versions." 

"  There  won't  be  any  other  versions  if  I  can  prevent 
it,"-returned  Blundel.  "I  shall  have  some  interviews 
with  newspaper  men  to-night,  T\  hich  will  accomplish  thai 
end,  I  hope." 


506  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  Ah  I  "  exclaimed  Miss  Jessup,  *  then  mine  will  bi 
the  only  statement." 

"  I  hope  so,"  he  answered.  '  It  will  be  if  I  have  any 
influence." 

"Oh,  then,"  she  said,  "you  have  done  me  a  favor, 
after  all." 

"  It  won't  balance  the  favor  you  will  have  done  me,"  he 
replied,  "if  you  do  your  best  in  this  matter.  You  see, 
I  know  what  your  best  is,  and  I  depend  on  it." 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  it  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say 
so,  and  I  will  try  to  prove  myself  worth  depending  on, 
but  "  —  And  she  scribbled  a  little  in  her  note-book.  "  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  that  the  reason  that  is  strongest 
in  my  mind  is  quite  an  unprofessional  one.  It  is  the  one 
you  spoke  of  just  now.  It  is  because  I  am  a  woman, 
too." 

"Then  she  is  safe,"  he  returned.  "Nothing  could 
make  her  safer.  And  I  am  grateful  to  you  beforehand, 
and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  say  so." 

And  they  shook  hands  and  parted  the  best  of  friends, 
notwithstanding  that  the  interview  had  dwindled  down 
into  proportions  quite  likely  to  be  regarded  by  the 
public  as  ent'rely  insignificant. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION .  507 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

IT  hid  certainly  been  expected  by  the  public  that  tht 
morning  papers  would  contain  some  interesting  reading 
matter,  and  in  some  respects  these  expectations  were 
realized.  The  ignominious  failure  of  the  Westoria  laud 
scheme  was  discussed  with  freedom  and  vigor,  light 
being  cast  upon  it  from  all  sides,  but  upon  the  subject 
which  had  promised  most  there  was  a  marked  silence. 
Only  in  one  paper  there  appeared  a  paragraph — 
scarcely  more  —  written  with  much  clearness  and  with 
a  combined  reserve  and  directness  which  could  not  fail 
to  carry  weight.  It  was  very  well  done,  and  said  so 
much  in  little,  and  with  such  unmistakable  faith  in  its 
own  statements  and  such  suggestions  of  a  foundation 
for  that  faith,  that  it  was  something  of  a  shock  to  those 
who  had  delighted  in  the  most  elaborate  ornamentation 
of  the  original  story.  In  effect  it  was  a  denial  not  only 
of  the  ornamentation,  but  of  the  story  itself,  and  left 
the  liberal  commentator  not  a  fact  to  stand  upon,  so  that 
he  became  temporarily  the  prey  of  discouragement  and 
spiritual  gloom,  which  was  not  a  littlo  added  to  by  the 
events  of  the  day. 

There  was,  however,  no  sense  of  discouragement  in 
the  mind  of  Senator  Blundel  as  he  attired  himself  for 
the  fray  when  night  arrived.  His  mood  was  a  fine  com- 
bination of  aggressiveness,  generous  kindliness,  hot  tem- 
per, and  chivalric  good  feeling.  He  thought  all  day  of 
the  prospect  before  him,  and  in  the  afternoon  went  to 
the  length  of  calling  at  a  florist's  and  ordering  a  bouquet 
to  be  sent  to  Mrs.  Amory,  choosing  it  himself  and  feel- 
ing some  pride  in  the  good  taste  of  his  selection.  He 
was  so  eager,  indeed,  that  the  day  seemed  quite  long 


508  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

to  him,  and  he  dressed  so  early  after  dinner  that  hi 
had  two  or  three  hours  to  wait  before  his  carriage 
arrived. 

But  it  did  arrive  at  last,  and  he  went  down  to  it,  draw- 
ing on  with  some  difficulty  an  exceedingly  tight  pair  oi 
gloves,  the  obduracy  of  whose  objections  to  being  but- 
toned gave  him  something  to  combat  with  and  suited  his 
frame  of  mind  to  a  nicety. 

He  was  not  called  upon  to  wait  very  long  after  his 
entrance  into  the  parlor.  A  few  moments  after  his 
arrival  Bertha  came  down.  She  was  superbly  dressed 
in  white ;  she  carried  his  roses  and  violets,  and  there 
burned  upon  her  cheeks  a  color  at  once  so  delicate  and 
brilliant  that  he  was  surprised  by  it.  He  had,  indeed, 
rather  expected  to  see  her  paler. 

"Upon  my  soul,"  he  said,  "you  don't  look  much 
frightened !  " 

"  I  am  not  frightened  at  all,"  she  answered. 

"That  is  a  good  thing,"  he  returned.  "We  shall  get 
on  all  the  better  for  it.  I  never  saw  you  with  a  brighter 
color." 

She  touched  her  cheek  with  her  gloved  finger. 

"  It  is  not  rouge,"  she  said.  "  1  have  been  thinking 
of  other  parties  I  have  attended  —  and  of  how  these 
ladies  will  look  at  me  to-night  —  and  of  what  they  pos- 
sibly said  of  me  yesterday  —  and  it  has  been  good  for 
me." 

"  It  was  not  so  good  for  them,  however,"  he  suggested, 
regarding  her  with  new  interest.  Her  spirit  pleased 
him ;  he  liked  it  that  she  was  not  ready  to  allow  her- 
celf  to  be  beaten  down,  that  she  held  her  head  erect 
and  confronted  her  enemies  with  resolute  eyes ;  he  had 
a  suspicion  that  there  were  women  enough  who  would 
have  been  timorous  and  pathetic. 

"I  could  not  hurt  them,"  she  replied.  "It  \rould 
matter  very  little  what  I  thought  or  said  of  them ;  it 
is  only  they  who  can  harm  me." 

"  They  shall  none  of  thorn  harm  you,"  he  said,  stoutly , 


THROUOn   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  50» 

"I  will  see  to  that ;  but  I'm   glad  you  are  looking  youi 
best." 

But  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  he  was  a  trifle 
anxious  about  her.  His  concern  manifested  itself  in 
occasional  touches  of  half-paternal  kindliness  which 
were  not  lost  upon  her.  He  assisted  her  to  put  on  her 
wrap,  asked  her  if  it  was  warm  enough,  ordered  her  to 
draw  it  closely  about  her,  and  tucked  her  under  his  arm 
as  he  led  her  out  to  the  carriage  with  an  air  of  de- 
termined protection  not  to  be  mistaken. 

Perhaps  his  own  views  as  to  what  form  of  oppression 
and  opposition  they  were  to  encounter  were  rather 
vague.  He  was  sufficiently  accustomed  to  the  oppo- 
sition of  men,  but  not  to  that  of  women ;  but,  what- 
ever aspect  it  assumed  upon  this  occasion,  he  was 
valiantly  determined  not  to  be  moved  by  it. 

"  I  can't  dance  with  you,"  he  said,  "  that's  true  — 
I  wish  I  could  ;\  but  I  will  see  that  you  have  plenty  of 
partners." 

"I  don't  thinly  the  difficulty  will  be  in  the  partners/' 
Bertha  replied,  with  a  faint  smile.  "The  men  will  not 
be  unkind  to  me,  you  will  see." 

"They  won't  believe  it,  eh?"  said  Blundel.  Her 
eyes  met  his,  and  the  faint  smile  had  a  touch  of  bitter- 
ness. 

"  Some  of  them  will  not  believe  it,"  she  answered ; 
"and  some  will  not  care." 

There  was  not  the  slightest  shade  of  any  distrust  of 
herself  or  her  surroundings,  either  in  her  face  or  man- 
ner, when,  on  reaching  their  destination,  she  made  her 
wey  into  the  cloak-room.  The  place  was  already 
crowded  —  so  crowded  that  a  new-comer  was  scarcely 
noticeable.  But,  though  she  seemed  to  see  nothing 
glancing  to  neither  right  nor  left,  and  occupying  her- 
self with  the  removal  of  her  wraps,  and  with  a  few 
calm  last  touches  bestowed  upon  her  toilet  before  a 
mirror,  scarcely  a  trifle  escaped  her.  She  heard  greet- 
ings, laughter,  gay  comments  on  the  brilliaucy  aod 


510  THROUGH  ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

promise  of  the  ball ;  she  knew  where  stood  a  woman 
who  would  be  likely  to  appear  as  an  enemy,  where 
etood  another  who  might  be  neutral,  and  another 
who  it  was  even  possible  might  be  a  friend.  But 
she  meant  to  run  no  risks,  and  her  long  training  in 
self-control  stood  her  in  good  stead ;  there  was  neither 
consciousness  nor  too  much  unconsciousness  in  her  face ; 
when  the  woman  whom  she  had  fancied  might  lean 
toward  friendliness  saw  and  bowed  to  her,  she  returned 
the  greeting  with  her  pretty,  inscrutable  smile,  the 
entire  composure  of  which  so  impressed  the  matron  wno 
was  disposed  to  neutrality  that  she  bowed  also,  and  so 
did  some  one  near  her.  But  there  were  others  who  did 
not  bow,  and  there  were  those  who,  discovering  the 
familiar,  graceful  figure,  drew  together  in  groups,  and 
made  an  amiable  comment  or  so.  But  she  did  not  seem 
to  see  them.  When,  taking  up  her  flowers  and  her 
white  ostrich-feather  fan,  she  passed  down  the  little 
lane,  they  expressed  their  disapproval  by  making  way 
for  her  as  she  turned  toward  the  door.  She  was  looking 
at  two  ladies  who  were  entering,  and,  general  attention 
being  directed  toward  them,  they  were  discovered  to 
be  Mrs.  Sylvestre  and  Mrs.  Merriam. 

"Now,"  it  was  asked,  "what  will  they  do?" 

What  they  did  was  very  simple  in  itself,  but  very  re- 
markable in  the  eyes  of  the  lookers-on.  They  paused 
and  spoke  to  the  delinquent  in  quite  their  usual 
manner. 

"  We  would  ask  you  to  wait  for  us,"  Mrs.  Merriam 
was  heard  to  say,  finally,  w  but  there  are  so  many  people 
here  to  be  attended  to,  and  we  saw  Senator  Blundel 
waiting  for  you  at  the  door.  May  I  tell  you  how 
pretty  your  dress  is,  and  how  brilliant  you  are  looking?" 

w  Senator  Blundel ! "  was  repeated  by  the  nearest 
groups.  "It  could  not  be  Senator  Blundel  who  is  with 
her." 

But  those  who  were  near  enough  to  the  door  were 
subjected  to  the  mental  shock  of  seeing  that  it  wai 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  511 

Senator  Blundel  himself.  He  appeared  in  festal  arraj', 
rubicund,  and  obstinately  elate,  and,  stepping  forward, 
took  his  charge's  hand,  and  drew  it  within  his  portly 
arm. 

i  w  What!"  he  said,  "you  are  not  pale  yet  —  and  yot 
re  were  plenty  of  them  in  there.     What  did  the? 


i  w 
the 


of  them  were  good  enough  to  bow  to  me," 
she  answered,  "  and  the  rest  drew  away  and  discussed 
me  in  undertones.  The  general  impression  was,  I 
think,  that  I  was  impudent.  I  did  not  feel  impudent, 
and  I  don't  think  I  looked  so." 

"  Poor  little  woman  !  "  he  said.    w  Poor  little  woman  !  " 

"No!  no!"  she  exclaimed,  looking  straight  before 
her,  witn  dangerously  bright  eyes  ;  "  don't  say  that  to 
me.  Don't  pity  me,  please  —  just  yet  —  it  isn't  good 
for  me.  f  need  —  I  need  "  — 

There  w,as  a  second  or  so  of  dead  silence.  She  did 
not  tell  hii^a  what  she  needed. 

When  they  entered  the  ball-room  a  waltz  was  being 
played,  and  the  floor  was  thronged  with  dancers  ;  the 
ladies  who  formed  the  committee  of  reception  stood  near 
the  door  ;  a  party  of  guests  had  just  received  the  usual 
greetings  and  retired.  The  commandress-in-chief  turned 
to  meet  the  new-comers.  She  was  a  stately  and  severe 
dowager,  with  no  intention  of  flinching  from  her  duty  ;  but 
her  sudden  \  recognition  of  the  approaching  senatorial 
figure  was  productive  of  a  bewilderment  almost  too  great 
for  her  experience  to  cope  with.  She  looked,  caught  her 
breath,  lost  it  and  her  composure  at  one  and  the  same 
time,  cast  a  despairing  glance  at  her  aides,  and  fell  a 
victim  to  circumstances.  Here  was  the  subject  under 
ban  calmly  making  the  most  graceful  and  self-possessed 
obeisance  before  her,  and  her  escort  was  the  man  of 
whom  it  had  been  said  that  a  few  days  ago  he  had 
exposed  her  infamous  plotting.  This  was  more  than  even 
the  most  experienced  matron  could  be  prepared  for.  It 
must  be  admitted  that  her  presence  of  mind  deserted 


312  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

her,  and  that  her  greetings  were  not  marked  by  th« 
ready  tact  which  usually  characterized  them. 

"  My  first  ball,  madam,"  remarked  the  senator,  scent- 
ing difficulty  in  the  breeze,  and  confronting  it  boldly. 
"But  for  my  friend,  Mrs.  Amory,  I  am  afraid  I  should 
not  be  here.  I  begin  to  feel  indebted  to  her  already." 

"It  promises  very  well,"  said  Bertha.  "I  never  saw 
the  room  gayer.  How  pretty  the  decorations  are ! " 

They  passed  on  to  make  room  for  others,  leaving  the 
estimable  ladies  behind  them  pale  with  excitement,  and 
more  demoralized  than  they  would  have  been  willing  to 
admit. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ? "  they  asked  one  another. 
"  They  appear  to  be  the  best  of  friends  1  What  are  we 
to  understand  ?  " 

There  was  one  kindly  matron  at  the  end  of  the  line 
who  looked  after  the  pair  with  an  expression  of  sympa- 
thy which  was  rather  at  variance  with  the  severity  of 
the  role  she  had  been  called  upon  to  enact. 

"It  appears,  "  she  said,  "as  if  the  whole  story  might 
be  a  fabrication,  and  the  senator  determined  to  prove  it 
BO.  I  hope  with  all  my  heart  he  will." 

By  the  time  they  reached  their  seats  the  news  of 
their  arrival  had  made  the  circle  of  the  room.  Bertha 
herself,  while  she  had  listened  with  a  smile  to  her  es- 
cort's remarks,  had  seen  amazement  and  recognition 
flash  out  upon  a  score  of  faces  ;  but  she  had  preserved 
her  smile  intact,  and  still  wore  it  when  she  took  her 
chair.  She  spoke  to  Blundel,  waving  her  fan  with  a 
soft,  even  motion. 

"We  have  run  the  gauntlet,"  she  said,  "and  we  have 
cLosen  a  good  position.  Almost  everybody  in  the  room 
has  seen  us ;  almost  every  one  in  the  room  is  looking 
%t  us." 

"  Let  them  look  I  "  he  answered.  "  I  have  no  objec- 
tion to  it." 

"  Ah,  they  will  look  !  "  she  returned.  "  And  we  came 
to  oe  —  to  be  looked  at.  And  it  is  very  good  of  you 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  513 

to  have  no  objections.  Do  I  seem  perfectly  at  ease  ?  I 
hope  so  —  though  I  am  entirely  well  aware  that  at  least 
a  hundred  people  are  discussing  me.  Is  the  expression 
of  my  eyes  good  —  careless  enough  ?  " 

"  Yes,  child,  yes,"  he  answered,  a  little  uneasily. 
There  was  an  undertone  in  her  voice  which  troubled  him , 
much  as  he  admired  her  spirit  and  self-control. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  Here  is  a  bold  man  coming 
to  ask  ijie  to  dance.  -I  told  you  the  men  would  not  bo 
afraid  of  me.  I  think,  if  you  approve  of  it,  I  will  dance 
with  him." 

"  Go  and  dance,"  he  answered. 

When  her  partner  bore  her  away  he  took  charge  of 
her  flowers  and  wrap  in  the  most  valiant  manner,  and 
carried  them  with  him  when  he  went  to  pay  his  respects 
to  the  matrons  of  his  acquaintance  who  sat  against  the 
wall  discussing  with  each  other  the  most  exciting  topic 
of  the  hour,  and  who,  when  he  addressed  them,  ques- 
tioned him  as  closely  as  good-breeding  would  permit, 
upon  all  subjects  likely  to  cast  light  upon  this  topic. 

"  Never  was  at  a  ball  in  my  life  before,"  he  admitted. 
w  Asked  Mrs.  Amory  to  bring  me.  Wanted  to  see  how 
I  should  like  it." 

"  With  Mrs.  Amory  ?  "  remarked  matron  No.  1.  "  She 
is  dancing,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  good-naturedly.  "  She  will  be  dancing 
all  night,  I  suppose,  and  I  shall  be  carrying  her  flowers ; 
but  I  don't  mind  it  —  in  fact,  I  rather  like  it.  I  dare 
say  there  are  two  or  three  young  fellows  who  would  be 
glad  enough  to  be  in  my  place." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  was  the  reply.  "  She  has  been 
very  popular  —  and  very  gay." 

"She  is  very  popular  with  me,"  said  the  senator, 
"  though  I  am  an,  old.  fogy,  and  don't  count.  We  are 
great  friends,  and  I  am  very  proud  to  be  her  escort  to- 
night. I  feel  I  am  making  my  debut  under  favorable 
circumstances." 

There  could  be  DO  doubt  of  his  sentiments  after  that. 


DI4  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

He  was  her  friend.     He  admired  her.     He  even  made  • 

point  of  saying  so.     What  became  of  the  story  of  the 

/  scandal  ?    It  seemed  to  have  ended  in  nothing  and  worse 

1     than  nothing ;  there  was  something  a  little  ridiculous 

about  such  a  tame  termination  to  such  an  excitement. 

One  or  two  of  the  ladies  who  had  found  it  most  absorbing 

looked  aimlessly  into  space,  and  an  embarrassed  silence 

fell  upon  them. 

Bertha  ended  her  dance  and  returned  to  her  seat.  Her 
color  was  even  brighter  than  before,  and  her  smile  was 
more  brilliant.  For  a  few  moments  a  little  group  sur- 
rounded her,  and  her  programme  was  half  full.  Blundel 
came  back  to  his  post  like  a  sentinel.  If  she  had  been 
looked  at  before,  she  was  regarded  now  with  a  double 
eagerness.  Those  who  were  not  dancing  watched  her 
every  movement ;  even  those  who  danced  asked  each 
other  questions.  The  group  about  her  chair  was  added 
to  and  became  gayer,  but  there  were  no  women  numbered 
in  the  circle.  The  general  wonder  was  as  to  what  would 
be  done  in  the  end.  So  far,  round  dances  only  had 
been  danced.  The  next  dance  was  a  quadrille.  The 
music  struck  up,  and  the  dancers  began  to  take  their 
places.  As  they  did  so  a  party  entered  the  room  and 
made  its  way  toward  the  end  where  the  group  stood 
about  the  chair.  Bertha  did  not  see  it ;  she  was  just 
rising  to  take  her  station  in  the  set  nearest  to  her.  The 
matron  of  the  party,  who  was  a  figure  so  familiar  in 
social  circles  as  to  be  recognized  at  once  by  all  who  saw 
her,  was  accompanied  by  her  daughter  and  an  escort. 
It  was  the  wife  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  her  cavalier 
was  Colonel  Tredennis. 

"There  ij  Mrs.  Amory,"  she  said  to  him  as  they 
approached.  *  She  is  taking  her  place  in  the  quadrille. 
One  moment,  if  you  please.'* 

Experience  had  taught  her  all  that  might  be  feared, 
and  a  quick  eye  showed  her  that  something  was  wrong 
Bertha  advanced  to  her  place,  laughing  a  little  at  some 
jest  of  her  partner's.  She  had  not  seen  wta  th« 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  513 

dancers  were.  The  jest  and  the  laugh  ended,  and 
she  looked  up  at  her  vis-a-vis.  The  lady  at  his  eide 
was  not  smiling ;  she  was  gazing  steadily  at  Bertha 
herself.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  waiting  to  catch 
her  eye.  It  was  the  "great  lady,"  and,  having  carried 
the  figurative  pebble  until  this  fitting  moment,  she 
throw  it.  She  spoke  two  or  three  words  to  her  part 
ner,  took  his  arm,  turned  her  back,  and  walked  away. 

Bertha  turned  rather  pale.  She  felt  the  blood  ebl 
out  of  her  face.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  action,  and  it  had  not  escaped  an  eye. 
This  was  more  than  she  had  thought  of.  She  made  a 
movement,  with  what  intention  she  herself  was  too 
much  shaken  to  know,  and,  in  making  it,  her  eyes  fell 
upon  a  face  whose  expression  brought  to  her  an  actual 
shock  of  relief.  It  was  the  face  of  the  kind  and  gener- 
ous gentlewoman  who  had  just  entered,  and  who,  at 
this  moment,  spoke  to  her  daughter. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "I  think  you  promised  Colonel 
Tredennis  the  first  quadrille.  Go  and  take  that  vacant 
place,  and  when  you  speak  to  Mrs.  Amory  ask  her  to 
come  and  talk  to  me  a  little  as  soon  as  the  dance  is 
over." 

There  was  a  tone  of  gentle  decision  in  her  voice  and 
a  light  in  her  eye  which  were  not  lost  upon  the  by- 
standers. She  gave  Bertha  a  bow  and  smile,  and  sat 
down.  The  most  fastidious  woman  in  Washington  — 
the  woman  who  drew  her  lines  so  delicately  that  she 
had  even  been  called  almost  too  rigorous ;  the  woman 
whose  well-known  good  taste  and  good  feeling  had 
given  her  a  power  mere  social  position  was  powerless 
to  bestow  —  had  taken  the  subject  of  the  hour's 
scandal  under  her  protection,  and  plainly  believed 
nothing  to  her  discredit. 

In  five  minutes  the  whole  room  was  aware  of  it.  She 
had  greeted  Mrs.  Amory  cordially,  she  had  openly 
checkmated  an  antagonist,  she  had  sent  her  own  daugh- 
ter to  fill  the  place  left  vacant  in  the  dance. 


3 16  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"  She  would  not  have  done  that  if  she  had  not  had 
the  best  of  reasons,"  it  was  said. 

"  And  Senator  Blundel  would  scarcely  be  here  if  the 
etory  had  been  true." 

"  He  has  told  several  of  his  friends  that  he  is  here  to 
prove  that  it  is  not  true  I " 

"He  denied  it  again  and  again  yesterday." 

"It  was  denied  in  one  of  the  morning  papers,  and 
they  say  he  kept  it  out  of  the  rest  because  he  was  de- 
termined she  should  not  be  more  publicly  discussed." 

"  She  is  not  one  of  the  women  who  have  been  in  the 
habit  of  giving  rise  to  discussion." 

"  She  is  a  pretty,  feminine-looking  little  creature." 

"  Poor  girl  I  It  must  have  been  bitter  enough  for 
her." 

"  Rather  fine  of  old  Blundel  to  stand  by  her  in  this 
way." 

"  He  would  not  do  it  if  there  was  not  something  rather 
fine  in  her.  He  is  not  a  ladies'  man,  old  Sam  Blundel. 
Look  at  him  !  How  he  looms  up  behind  his  bouquet ! " 

The  tide  of  public  opinion  had  taken  a  turn.  Before 
the  dance  had  ended  two  or  three  practical  matrons,  who 
were  intimately  known  to  Colonel  TredenmV  friendly 
supporter,  had  made  their  way  to  her  and  asked  her 
opinion  and  intentions  frankly,  and  had  received  infor- 
mation calculated  to  set  every  doubt  at  rest. 

"It  is  scarcely  necessary  for  me  to  speak  of  my 
opinion  of  the  matter,"  the  lady  said,  "  when  we  have 
the  evidence  of  Senator  Blunders  presence  here  with 
Mrs.  Amory  to-night.  I  should  feel  myself  unpardon- 
ubly  in  the  wrong  if  I  did  not  take  the  most  open  meas- 
ures in  the  defence  of  the  daughter  of  my  old  friend, 
who  has  been  treated  most  unjustly.  And  I  cannot 
help  hoping  that  she  will  have  other  defenders  than 
myself." 

Several  of  the  matrons  so  addressed  were  seated 
within  speaking  range  when  Bertha  came  to  her  friend 
at  the  close  of  the  dance ,  and  she  recognized  at  once  on 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  517 

ling  them  that  she  need  fear  them  no  longer. 
But  she  could  not  say  much  in  response  to  their  greet- 
ings ;  she  answered  them  briefly,  bowed  slightly,  and 
sat  down  in  the  chair  near  the  woman  who  had  protected 
her.  She  could  even  say  but  little  to  her ;  the  color 
had  died  out  of  her  face  at  last ;  the  strain  she  had 
borne  so  long  had  reached  its  highest  tension  to-night, 
and  the  shock  of  the  moment,  received  through  an  envi- 
ous woman's  trivial  spite,  slight  as  it  might  have  been 
in  itself,  represented  too  much  to  her.  As  he  had 
passed  her  in  the  dance  and  touched  her  hand,  Treden- 
nis  had  felt  it  as  cold  as  ice,  and  the  look  of  her  quiet, 
white  face  had  been  almost  more  than  he  could  bear  to 
see. 

"Bertha,"  he  had  said  to  her  once,  "for  God's  sake, 
take  courage  ! " 

But  she  had  not  answered  him.  A  few  months  ago 
fcihe  would  have  given  him  a  light,  flippant  reply,  if  her 
very  soul  had  been  wrung  within  her,  but  now  she  was 
past  that. 

As  she  sat,  afterwards,  by  the  wife  of  the  Secretary 
of  State,  her  hand  shook  as  she  held  her  fan. 

"You  were  very  kind  to  me  just  now,"  she  said,  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  cannot  express  my  thanks  as  I  wish." 

"My  dear,"  was  the  reply,  "do  not  speak  of  it.  I 
came  to  take  care  of  you.  I  think  you  will  have  no 
more  trouble.  But  I  am  afraid  this  has  been  too  much 
for  you.  You  are  shivering  a  little." 

"I  am  cold,"  Bertha  answered.  "I — feel  as  if — 
something  strange  had  happened  to  me.  It  was  not  so 
before.  I  seem  —  to  have  lost  courage." 

"  But  you  must  not  lose  courage  yet,"  she  said,  with 
a  manner  at  once  soft  and  firm.  "A  great  many  people 
are  looking  at  you.  They  will  be  very  curious  to  know 
how  you  feel.  It  is  best  that  you  should  not  let  them 
see." 

She  spoke  rather  rapidly,  but  in  a  low  vcice.  No 
one  near  could  hear  She  was  smiling,  as  if  tl  e  subject 


518  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

of  the  conversation  was  the  least  important  in  the 
worl  1. 

"Listen  to  me,"  she  said,  in  the  same  manner,  "  and 
try  to  look  as  if  we  were  speaking  of  ordinary  topics. 
I  dare  say  you  feel  as  if  you  would  prefer  to  go  away, 
but  I  think  you  must  remain.  Everybody  here  must 
understand  that  you  have  friends  who  entirely  disbelieve 
all  that  has  been  said  against  you,  and  also  that  they 
wish  to  make  their  confidence  in  you  public.  I  should 
advise  you  to  appear  to  enjoy  yourself  moderately  well. 
I  think  I  wish  you  to  dance  several  times  again.  I 
think  there  will  be  no  difficulty  in  arranging  the  next 
square  dance.  When  the  presidential  party  arrives,  the 
President  will,  I  have  no  doubt,  be  pleased  to  talk  to 
you  a  little.  It  would  be  republican  to  say  that  it  is 
absurd  to  consider  that  such  a  thing  can  be  of  conse- 
quence ;  but  there  are  people  with  whom  it  will  have 
weight.  As  soon  as  possible,  I  shall  send  you  down  to 
the  supper-room  with  Senator  Blundel.  A  glass  of 
wine  will  do  you  good.  Here  is  Senator  Blundel  now. 
Do  you  think  you  can  talk  to  him  in  your  usual  manner  ?  " 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Bertha.  "  And,  if  I  do  not,  I  think 
he  will  understand." 

He  did  understand.  The  little  incident  had  been  no 
more  lost  upon  him  than  upon  others.  He  was  glowing 
with  repressed  wrath,  and  sympathy,  and  the  desire  to 
do  something  which  should  express  his  feeling.  He  saw 
at  once  the  change  which  had  come  upon  her,  and  real- 
ized to  the  full  all  that  it  denoted.  When  he  bore  her 
off  to  the  supper-room  he  fairly  bristled  with  defiance 
of  the  lookers-on  who  made  way  for  them. 

*  Confound  the  woman !"  he  said.  "If  it  had  only 
been  a  man  ! " 

He  found  her  the  most  desirable  corner  in  the  supper- 
room,  and  devoted  himself  to  her  service  with  an  as- 
siduity which  touched  her  to  the  heart. 

"  You  have  lost  your  color,"  he  said.  '  That  won't 
do.  We  must  bring  it  back." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRA1ION.  519 

*  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  come  back,"  she  answered. 

And  it  did  not,  even  though  the  tide  had  turned,  and 
that  it  had  done  so  became  more  manifest  every  mo- 
ment. They  were  joined  shortly  by  Colonel  Tredennis 
and  his  party,  and  by  Mrs.  Merriam  and  hers.  It  waa 
plain  that  Mrs.  Amory  was  to  be  alone  no  more  ;  peo- 
ple who  had  been  unconscious  of  her  existence  in  the 
ball-room  suddenly  recognized  it  as  she  sat  surrounded 
by  her  friends ;  the  revulsion  of  feeling  which  had  taken 
place  in  her  favor  expressed  itself  in  a  hundred  trifles. 
But  her  color  was  gone,  and  returned  no  more,  though 
she  bore  herself  with  outward  calmness.  It  was  Colo- 
nel Tredennis  who  was  her  first  partner  when  they  re- 
turned to  the  ball-room.  He  had  taken  a  seat  near  her 
at  the  supper-table,  and  spoken  a  few  words  to  her. 

w  Will  you  give  me  a  place  on  your  card,  Bertha  ?  "  he 
had  said,  and  she  had  handed  it  to  him  in  silence. 

He  was  not  fond  of  dancing,  and  they  had  rarely 
danced  together,  but  he  wished  to  be  near  her  until  she 
had  had  time  to  recover  herself.  Better  he  than  another 
man  who  might  not  understand  so  well ;  he  knew  how 
to  be  silent,  at  least. 

So  they  went  through  their  dance  together,  exchang- 
ing but  few  words,  and  interested  spectators  looked  on, 
and  one  or  two  remarked  to  each  other  that,  upon  the 
whole,  it  appeared  that  Mrs.  Amory  was  rather  well 
supported,  and  that  there  had  evidently  been  a  mistake 
somewhere. 

And  then  the  colonel  took  her  back  to  her  seat,  and 
there  were  new  partners ;  and  between  the  dances  one 
matron  after  another  found  the  way  to  her,  and,  in- 
fluenced by  the  general  revulsion  of  feeling,  exhibited 
a  cordiality  and  interest  in  marked  contrast  with  the 
general  bearing  at  the  outset  of  the  evening.  Perhaps 
there  were  those  who  were  rather  glad  to  be  relieved 
of  the  responsibility  laid  upon  them.  When  the  presi- 
dential party  arrived  it  was  observed  that  the  President 
himself  was  very  cordiai  when  he  joined  the  grc  jp  at 


520  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

the  end  of  the  room,  the  centre  figure  of  which  was  tht 
wife  of  his  friend  and  favorite  cabinet  officer.  It  was 
evident  that  he,  at  least,  had  not  been  affected  by  the 
gossip  of  the  hour.  His  greeting  of  Mrs.  Ainory  was 
marked  in  its  kindness,  and  before  he  went  away  it  \\as 
whispered  about  that  he  also  had  felt  an  interest  in  the 
matter  when  it  had  reached  his  ears,  and  was  not  sorry 
to  have  an  opportunity  of  indirectly  expressing  his 
opinion. 

The  great  lady  took  her  departure  in  bitterness  of 
spirit ;  the  dances  went  on,  Bertha  went  through  one 
after  another,  and  between  her  waltzes  held  her  small 
court,  and  was  glanced  at  askance  no  more.  Any 
slight  opposition  which  might  have  remained  would 
have  been  overpowered  by  the  mere  force  of  changed 
circumstances.  Before  the  evening  was  at  an  end  it 
had  become  plain  that  the  attempt  to  repress  and  over- 
whelm little  Mrs.  Amory  had  been  a  complete  failure, 
and  had  left  her  better  defended  than  it  had  found  her. 

"  But  she  has  lost  something,"  Senator  Blundel  said 
to  himself,  as  he  watched  her  dancing.  "  Confound  it  I 
—  /  can  see  it  —  she  is  not  what  she  was  three  months 
ago ;  she  is  not  what  she  was  when  she  came  into  the 
room." 

Tredennis  also  recognized  the  change  which  had 
come  upon  her,  and  before  long  knew  also  that  she  had 
seen  his  recognition  of  it,  and  that  she  made  no  effort 
to  conceal  it  from  him.  He  felt  that  he  could  almost 
have  better  borne  to  see  her  old,  careless  gayety,  which 
he  had  been  wont  to  resent  in  secret  bitterness  of  heart. 

Once,  when  they  chanced  to  stand  alone  together  for 
a  moment,  she  spoke  to  him  quickly. 

"  Is  it  late  ?  "  she  asked.  "  We  seem  to  have  been 
here  so  long !  I  have  danced  so  much.  Will  it  not 
soon  be  time  to  go  home  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  almost  breathlessly;  "thei 
music  seems  so  loud  it  bewilders  me  a  little.  How 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  52 1 

gay  it  is !     How  the  people  dance !     The  sound  and 
motion  make  me  blind  and  dizzy.     Philip  1 " 

The  tone  in  which  she  uttered  his  name  was  so  low 
and  tense  that  he  was  startled  by  it. 

"What  is  it?  "he  asked. 

"If  there  are  many  more  dances,  I  am  afraid  —  I 
cannot  go  through  them  —  I  think  —  I  am  breaking 
down^  and  I  must  not  —  I  must  not  I  Tell  me  what  to 
do!"  i 

He  tnade  a  movement  so  that  he  stood  directly  before 
her  and  shielded  her  from  the  observation  of  those  near 
them.  He  realized  the  danger  of  the  moment. 

"  Look  up  at  me  !  "  he  said.     "  Try  to  fix  your  eyes 
on  me  steadily.      This  feeling  will  pass  away  directly 
You  will  go  soon  and  you  must  not  break  down.     Do 
not  let  yourself  be  afraid  that  you  will." 

She  obeyed  him  like  a  child,  trying  to  look  at  him 
steadily. 

"  Tell  me  one  more  dance  will  be  enough,"  she  said, 
"  and  say  you  will  dance  it  with  me  if  you  can." 

"  I  will,"  he  answered,  "  and  you  need  not  speak  a 

word." 

\ 

When  the  senator  found  himself  alone  in  the  carriage 
with  her  his  sense  of  the  triumph  achieved  found  its 
expression  in  words. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  think  we  have  put  an  end  to  that 
story." 

"Yes,"  Bertha  answered,  "they  will  not  say  anything 
more  about  me.  You  have  saved  me  from  that." 

She  leaned  forward  and  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Carriages  blocked  the  street,  and  were  driving  up  and 
driving  away;  policemen  were  opening  and  shutting 
doors  and  calling  names  loudly;  a  few  street-Arabs 
stood  on  the  pavement  and  looked  with  envious  eyes  at 
the  bright  dresses  and  luxurious  wraps  of  the  party 
passing  under  the  awning ;  the  glare  of  gas-light  fell 
ipon  a  pretty  face  upturned  to  its  companions,  and  a 


522  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

sS 

girl's  laugh  rang  out  on  the  night  air.  Bertha  turned 
away.  She  looked  at  Senator  Blundel.  Her  own  face 
had  no  color. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  —  "I  think  I  have  been  to  my  last 
ball." 

"No  —  no,"  he  answered.  " That  s  nonsense.  Yon 
will  dance  at  many  a  one." 

"I  think,"  she  said,  —  "I  think  this  is  the  last." 

Senator  Blundel  did  not  accompany  her  into  the  house 
when  they  reached  it.  He  left  her  at  the  door,  almost 
wringing  her  small  cold  hand  in  his  stout  warm  one. 

"  Come  ! "  he  said.  "  You  are  tired  now,  and  no 
wonder,  but  to-morrow  you  will  be  better.  You  want 
sleep  and  you  must  have  it.  Go  in,  child,  and  go  to 
bed.  Good-night.  God  bless  you  I  You  will  —  be 
better  to-morrow." 

She  went  through  the  hall  slowly,  intending  to  go  to 
her  room,  but  when  she  reached  the  parlor  she  saw  that 
it  was  lighted.  She  had  given  orders  that  the  servants 
should  not  sit  up  for  her,  and  the  house  was  silent  with 
the  stillness  of  sleep.  She  turned  at  the  parlor  door  and 
looked  in.  A  fire  still  burned  in  the  grate,  her  own 
chair  was  drawn  up  before  it,  and  in  the  chair  sat  a  figure, 
the  sight  of  which  caused  her  to  start  forward  with  an 
exclamation,  —  a  tall,  slender,  old  figure,  his  gray  head 
bowed  upon  his  hand. 

"Papa!"  she  cried.  "Can  it  be  you,  papa?  What 
has  happened  ?  " 

He  rose  rather  slowly,  and  looked  at  her;  it  was 
evident  that  he  had  been  plunged  in  deep  thought ;  his 
eyes  were  heavy,  and  he  looked  aged  and  worn.  He 
put  out  his  hand,  took  hers,  and  drew  her  to  him. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said.     "  My  dear  child  !  " 

She  stood  quite  still  for  a  moment,  looking  up  at  him, 

*  You  have  come  to  tell  me  something,"  she  said,  at 
length,  in  a  low,  almost  monotonous  voice.  "And  it  is 
something  about  Richard.  It  is  something  —  something 
wretched." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  523 

A  slight  flush  mounted  to  his  cheek, — a  flush  of 
shame. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "it  is  something  wretched." 

She  began  to  shake  like  a  leaf,  but  it  was  not  from 
fear. 

"Then  do  not  be  afraid,"  she  said  ;  "there  is  no  need  I 
Richard  —  has  not  spared  me  i" 

It  was  the  first  time  through  all  she  had  borne  and 
hidden,  through  all  the  years  holding,  for  her,  suffering 
and  bitterness  and  disenchantment  which  had  blighted 
all  her  youth, — it  was  the  first  time  she  had  permitted 
her  husband's  name  to  escape  her  lips  when  she  could 
not  compel  herself  to  utter  it  gently,  and  that,  at  last,  he 
himself  had  forced  such  speech  from  her  was  the  bitter- 
est indignity  of  all. 

And  if  she  felt  this,  the  professor  felt  it  keenly,  too. 
He  had  marked  her  silence  and  self-control  at  many  a 
time  when  he  had  felt  that  the  fire  that  burned  in  her 
must  make  her  speak ;  but  she  had  never  spoken,  and 
the  dignity  of  her  reserve  had  touched  him  often. 

"What  is  it  that  Richard  has  done  now,  papa?"  she 
said. 

He  put  a  tremulous  hand  into  his  pocket,  and  drew 
forth  a  letter. 

" Richard,"  he  said,  —  "Richard  has  gone  abroad." 

She  had  felt  that  she  was  to  receive  some  blow,  but 
she  had  scarcely  been  prepared  for  this.  She  repeated 
his  words  in  bewilderment. 

"  Richard  has  gone  abroad  ! " 

The   professor  put  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "You  must  sit 
down." 

There  was  a  chair  n^ar  her ;  it  stood  by  the  table  on 
which  the  professor  had  been  wont  to  take  his  cup  of 
tea ;  she  turned  and  sat  down  in  this  chair,  and  resting 
her  elbows  on  the  table,  dropped  her  forehead  upon  her 
hands.  The  professor  drew  near  to  her  side  ;  his  gentle, 
refined  eld  face  flushed  and  paled  alternately;  hii 


524  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

hands  were  tremulous ;  be  spoke  in  a  low,  agitated 
voice. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  I  find  it  very  hard  to  tell  you 
all — all  I  have  discovered.  It  is  very  bitter  to  stand 
here  upon  your  husband's  hearth,  and  tell  you — my 
child  and  his  wife  —  that  the  shadow  of  dishonor  and 
disgrace  rests  upon  him.  He  has  not  been  truthful ;  we 
have  —  been  deceived." 

She  did  not  utter  a  word. 

"For  some  time  I  have  been  anxious,"  he  went  on; 
"but  I  blame  myself  that  I  was  not  anxious  sooner.  I 
am  not  a  business  man ;  I  have  not  been  practical  in 
my  methods  of  dealing  with  him ;  the  fault  was  in  a 
great  measure  mine.  His  nature  was  not  a  strong  one, 
—  it  was  almost  impossible  for  him  to  resist  temptation  ; 
1  knew  that,  and  should  have  remembered  it.  I  have  been 
very  blind.  I  did  not  realize  what  was  going  on  before 
my  eyes.  I  thought  his  interest  in  the  Westoria  scheme 
was  only  one  of  his  many  whims.  I  was  greatly  to 
blame." 

"  No,"  said  Bertha ;  "  it  was  not  you  who  were  to 
blame.  I  was  more  blind  than  you  —  I  knew  him 
better  than  —  than  an^  one  else." 

"  A  short  time  ago,"  said  the  professor,  "  I  received 
a  letter  from  an  old  friend  who  knows  a  great  deal 
of  my  business  affairs.  He  is  a  business  man,  and  I 
have  been  glad  to  entrust  him  with  the  management  of 
various  investments.  In  this  manner  he  knew  some- 
thing of 'he  investment  of  the  money  which  was  yours. 
He  knew  more  of  Richard's  methods  than  Richard  was 
awure  of.  He  had  heard  rumors  of  the  Westoria  land 
scheme,  and  had  accidentally,  in  the  transaction  of  his 
business,  made  some  discoveries.  He  asked  me  if  I 
knew  the  extent  to  which  your  fortune  had  been  specu- 
lated ~vith  Knowing  a  few  facts,  he  was  able  \9 
guess  at  others  "  — 

Bertha  lifted  her  face  from  her  hands. 

w  My  money  I  "  she  exclaimed.     "  My  fortune  I  * 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  525 

"He  had  speculated  with  it  at  various  times,  some- 
times gaining,  sometimes  losing;  the  Westoria  affair 
seems  to  have  dazzled  him  —  and  he  invested  \argely  " — 

Bertha  rose  from  her  chair. 

"  It  was  Philip  Tredennis'  money  he  invested,"  she 
said.  "  Philip  Tredennis  "  — 

"  It  was  not  Philip's  money,"  the  professor  answered ; 
"  that  I  have  discovered.  But  it  was  Philip's  generosity 
which  would  have  made  it  appear  so.  In  this  letter  — 
written  just  before  he  sailed  —  Kichard  has  admitted  the 
truth  to  me  —  finding  what  proof  I  had  against  him." 

Bertha  lifted  her  hands  and  let  them  fall  at  her  sides. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  "I  do  not  understand  this — I  do 
not  understand.  Philip  Tredennis  I  He  gave  money 
to  Richard  !  Richard  accepted  money  from  him  —  to 
shield  himself,  to  —  This  is  too  much  for  me  I  " 

"  Philip  had  intended  the  money  for  Jariey,"  said  the 
professor,  "  and  when  he  understood  how  Richard  had 
involved  himself,  and  how  his  difiiculties  would  affect 
you  and  your  future,  he  made  a  most  remarkable  offer : 
he  offered  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  Richard's 
losses.  He  did  not  intend  that  you  should  know  what 
he  had  done.  Such  a  thing  would  only  have  been 
possible  for  Philip  Tredennis,  and  it  was  because  I  knew 
him  so  well,  that,  when  I  heard  that  it  was  his  money 
that  had  been  risked  in  the  Westoria  lands,  I  felt  that 
something  was  wrong.  He  was  very  reticent,  and  that 
added  to  my  suspicions.  Then  I  made  the  discoveries 
through  my  friend,  and  my  accusations  of  Richard  forced 
him  to  admit  the  truth." 

"  The  truth  ! "  said  Bertha, — "  that  /  was  to  live  upon 
Philip  Tredennis'  money ;  that,  having  been  ruined  by 
my  husband,  I  was  to  be  supported  by  Philip  Treden- 
nis'  bounty ! " 

"Richard  was  in  despair,"  said  the  professor,  "  and  in 
his  extremity  he  forgot "  — 

" He  forgot  me! "  said  Bertha.  "  Yes,  he  forgot  —  a 
great  many  things." 


526  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

"It  has  seemed  always  to  be  Philip  who  has  re^ 
membered,"  said  the  professor,  sadly.  "Philip  has  been 
generous  and  thoughtful  for  us  from  first  to  last." 

Bertha's  hand  closed  itself. 

"  Yes,"  she  cried ;  "  always  Philip  —  always  Philip  ! " 

"  What  could  have  been  finer  and  more  delicate  than 
his  care  and  planning  for  you  in  this  trouble  of  the  last 
fe "iv  days,  to  which  I  have  been  so  blind  ! "  said  the  pro- 
fessor. 

"His  care  and  planning!"  echoed  Bertha,  turning 
slowly  toward  him.  "  His !  Did  you  not  hear  that 
Senator  Blundel "  — 

"  It  was  he  who  went  to  Senator  Blundel,"  the  pro- 
fessor answered.  "  It  was  he  who  spoke  to  the  wife  of 
the  Secretary  of  State.  I  learned  it  from  Mrs.  Merriam. 
Out  of  all  the  pain  we  have  borne,  or  may  have  to  bear, 
the  memory  of  Philip's  faithful  affection  for  us  "  — 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence.  Bertha  stopped  him. 
Her  clenched  hand  had  risen  to  her  side,  and  was  pressed 
against  it. 

"  It  was  Philip  who  came  to  me  in  my  trouble  in  Vir- 
ginia," she  said.  "  It  was  Philip  who  saw  my  danger 
and  warned  me  of  it  when  I  would  not  hear  him ;  but 
I  could  not  know  that  I  owed  him  such  a  debt  as  this  !  " 

"  We  should  never  have  known  it  from  him,"  the 
professor  replied.  "  He  would  have  kept  silent  to  the 
end." 

Bertha  looked  at  the  clock  upon  the  mantel. 

"  It  is  too  late  to  send  for  him  now,"  she  said ;  "  it  IB 
too  late,  and  a  whole  night  must  pass  before  "  — 

"  Before  you  say  to  him  —  what  ?  "  asked  the  pro- 
fessor. 

"  Before  I  tell  him  that  Kichard  made  a  mistake,"  she 
answered,  with  white  and  trembling  lips  ;  "that  he  must 
take  his  money  back  —  that  I  will  not  have  it." 

She  caught  her  father's  arm  and  clung  to  it,  looking 
into  his  troubled  face. 

'Papa,"  she  said,  "will  you  take  me  home  again* 


fHROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  527 

I  think  you  must,  if  you  will.  There  seems  to  be  uo 
place  for  me.  If  you  will  let  me  stay  with  you  until  I 
have  time  to  think." 

The  professor  laid  his  hand  upon  hers  and  held  it 
closely. 

"My  dear,"  he  said,  "my  home  is  yours.  It  has 
never  seemed  so  much  mine  since  you  left  it ;  but  this 
may  not  be  so  bad  as  you  think.  I  do  not  know  how 
much  we  may  rely  upon  Richard's  hopes,  — •  they  are  not 
always  to  be  relied  upon,  — but  it  appears  that  he  has 
hopes  of  retrieving  some  of  his  losses  through  a  certain 
speculation  he  seems  to  have  regarded  as  a  failure,  but 
which  suddenly  promises  to  prove  a  success." 

"  I  have  never  thought  of  being  poor,"  said  Bertha ; 
w  I  do  not  think  I  should  know  how  to  be  poor.  But, 
somehow,  it  is  not  the  money  I  am  thinking  of;  that 
will  come  later,  I  suppose.  I  scarcely  seem  to  realize 
yet"  — 

Her  voice  and  her  hand  shook,  and  she  clung  to  him 
more  closely. 

"Everything  has  gone  wrong,"  she  said,  wildly; 
"  everything  must  be  altered.  No  one  is  left  to  care  for 
me  but  you.  No  one  must  do  it  but  you.  Now  that 
Richard  has  gone,  it  is  not  Philip  who  must  be  kind  to 
me  —  not  Philip  —  Philip  last  of  all !  " 

"  Not  Philip  ?  "  he  echoed.     "  Not  Philip  ?  " 

And,  as  he  said  it,  they  both  heard  feet  ascending  the 
ateps  at  the  front  door. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  professor,  "  that  is  Philip  now. 
He  spoke  of  calling  in  on  me  on  his  way  home.  Per- 
haps he  has  been  anxious  at  finding  me  out  so  late.  I 
do  not  understand  you  —  but  must  I  go  and  send  him 
away  ? '' 

"No,"  she  answered,  shuddering  a  little,  as  if  with 
cold,  w  it  is  for  me  to  send  him  away.  But  I  must  tell 
him  first  about  the  money.  I  am  glad  he  has  come.  I 
am  glad  another  night  will  not  pass  without  his  know- 
ing. I  think  I  want  to  speak  to  bin  alone  —  if  you 


528  THEOUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

will  send  him  here,  and  wait  for  a  little  while  in  th« 
library." 

She  did  not  see  her  father's  face  as  he  went  awa}7  from 
her ;  he  did  not  see  hers ;  she  turned  and  stood  upon 
the  hearth  with  her  back  toward  the  door. 

She  stood  so  when,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  Philip 
Tredennis  came  in ;  she  stood  so  until  he  was  within  a 
few  feet  of  her.  Then  she  moved  a  little  and  looked 
up. 

What  she  saw  in  him  arrested  for  the  moment  her 
power  to  speak,  and  for  that  moment  both  were  silent. 
Often  as  she  had  recognized  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  him,  often  as  the  realization  of  it  had  wrung 
her  heart,  and  wrung  it  all  the  more  that  she  had  under- 
stood so  little,  she  had  never  before  seen  it  as  she  saw 
it  then.  All  the  weariness,  the  anxious  pain,  the  hope- 
less sadness  of  his  past,  seemed  to  have  come  to  the  sur- 
face ;  he  could  endure  no  more  ;  he  had  borne  the  strain 
too  long,  and  he  knew  too  well  that  the  end  had  come. 
No  need  for  words  to  tell  him  that  he  must  lose  even 
the  poor  and  bitter  comfort  he  had  clung  to ;  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  that  when  he  had  defended  her 
against  the  man  who  himself  should  have  been  her  de- 
fence. 

So  he  stood  silent  and  his  deep  eyes  looked  out  from 
his  strong,  worn,  haggard  face,  holding  no  reproach, 
full  only  of  pity  for  her. 

There  was  enough  to  pity  in  her.  If  she  saw  anguish 
in  his  eyes,  what  he  saw  in  hers  as  she  uplifted  them  he 
could  scarcely  have  expressed  in  any  words  he  knew ; 
surely  there  were  no  words  into  which  he  could  have 
put  the  pang  their  look  gave  him,  telling  him  as  it  did 
that  she  had  reached  the  point  where  she  could  stand  on 
guard  no  more. 

"Richard,"  she  said  at  length,  "has  gone  away." 

"  That  I  knew,"  he  answered. 

"When? "she  asked. 

w  I  had  a  letter  from  him  this  morning,"  he  said. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  529 

*  You  did  not  wish  to  tell  me  ?  "  she  returned. 

"  I  thought,"  he  began,  "  that  perhaps  "  —  and  stopped . 

"You  thought  that  he  would  write  to  me  too,"  she 
said.  "He  — did  not." 

He  did  not  speak,  and  she  went  on. 

"When  I  returned  to-night,"  she  said,  "papa  wa« 
waiting  for  me.  He  had  received  a  letter,  too,  and  it 
told  him  —  something  he  suspected  before  —  something 
I  had  not  suspected  —  something  I  could  not  know  "  — 

Her  voice  broke,  and  when  she  began  again  there  was 
a  ring  of  desperate  appeal  to  it. 

"When  I  was  a  girl,"  she  said,  "when  you  knew  me 
long  ago,  what  was  there  of  good  in  me  that  you  should 
have  remembered  it  through  all  that  you  have  known 
of  me  since  then?  —  there  must  have  been  something  — 
something  good  or  touching  —  something  more  than  the 
goodness  in  yourself — that  made  you  pitiful  of  me,  and 
generous  to  me,  and  anxious  for  my  sake.  Tell  me 
what  it  was." 

"It  was,"  he  said,  and  his  own  voice  was  low  and 
broken  too,  and  his  deep  and  sad  eyes  wore  a  look  she 
had  never  seen  before,  — the  look  that,  in  the  eyes  of  a 
woman,  would  have  spoken  of  welling  tears, — "it  was — 
yourself." 

"Myself!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  if  it  was  myself,  and 
there  were  goodness  and  truth,  and  what  was  worth 
remembering  in  me,  why  did  it  not  save  me  from  what 
I  have  been  —  and  from  what  I  am  to-day  ?  I  do  not 
think  I  meant  to  live  my  life  so  badly  then ;  I  was  only 
careless  and  happy  in  a  girlish  way.  I  had  so  much  faith 
and  hope,  and -believed  so  much  in  all  good  things  ;  and 
yet  my  life  has  all  been  wrong,  and  I  seem  to  believe 
no  more,  and  everything  is  lost  to  me ;  and  since  the 
days  when  I  looked  forward  there  is  a  gulf  that  I  can 
never,  never  pass  again." 

She  came  nearer  to  him,  and  a  sob  broke  from  her. 

"What  am  I  to  say  to  you,"  she  said,  "now  that  I 
know  all  that  you  have  done  for  me  while  I  —  while  I  - 


530  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Why  should  you  have  cared  to  protect  me  ?  I  wan  not 
kind  to  you  —  I  was  not  careful  of  your  feelings  "  — 

"  No,"  he  answered.     "  You  —  were  not." 

"  I  used  to  think  that  you  despised  me,"  she  went  on , 
*once  I  told  you  so.  I  even  tried  to  give  you  the 
reason.  I  showed  my  worst  self  to  you ;  I  was  unjust 
and  bitter ;  I  hurt  you  many  a  time." 

He  seemed  to  labor  for  his  words,  and  yet  he  labored 
rather  to  control  and  check  than  to  utter  them. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  he  said.  "  When  I  made  the 
arrangement  with  Richard,  of  which  you  know,  I  meant 
to  go  away.  I  gathered,  from  what  your  father  said, 
that  you  mean  to  render  useless  my  poor  effort  to  be  of 
use  to  you." 

ff  I  cannot "  —  she  began,  but  she  could  go  no  farther. 

"  When  I  leave  you  —  as  I  must,"  he  said,  "  let  me  at 
least  carry  away  with  me  the  memory  that  you  were 
generous  to  me  at  the  last." 

"  At  the  last,"  she  repeated  after  him,  w  the  last !  " 

She  uttered  a  strange,  little  inarticulate  cry.  He 
saw  her  lift  up  one  of  her  arms,  look  blindly  at  the 
bracelet  on  her  wrist,  drop  it  at  her  side,  and  then  stand 
looking  up  at  him. 

There  was  a  moment  of  dead  silence. 

w  Janey  shall  take  the  money,"  she  said  ;  "I  cannot." 

What  the  change  was  that  he  saw  come  over  her 
white  face  and  swaying  figure  he  only  felt,  as  he  might 
have  felt  a  blow  in  the  dark  from  an  unknown  hand. 
What  the  great  shock  was  that  came  upon  him  he  only 
felt  in  the  same  way. 

She  sank  upon  the  sofa,  clinging  to  the  cushion  with 
one  shaking  hand.  Suddenly  she  broke  into  helpless 
sobbing,  like  a  child's,  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks 
as  she  lifted  her  face  in  appeal. 

"You  have  been  good  to  me,"  she  said.  "You  have 
been  kind.  Be  good  to  me  —  be  kind  to  me  —  once 
more.  You  must  go  away  —  and  I  cannot  take  from 
you  what  you  want  to  give  me;  but  I  am  not  so  bad  as 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  531 

I  have  seemed  —  or  so  hard  !  What  you  have  wished 
me  to  be  I  will  try  to  be  !  I  will  live  for  my  children. 
I  will  be  —  as  good  —  as  I  can.  I  will  do  anything  you 
tell  me  to  do  —  before  you  leave  me!  I  will  live  all 
my  life  afterward  —  as  Bertha  Hcrrick  might  have  lived 
it  I  Only  clo  not  ask  me  to  take  the  money  I " 

For  a  few  seconds  all  the  room  was  still.  When  he 
answered  her  she  could  barely  hear  his  voice. 

" I  trill  ask  of  you  nothing,"  he  said. 

He  lifted  her  hand  and  bowed  his  head  over  it.  Then 
he  laid  it  back  upon  the  cushion.  It  lay  there  as  if  it 
had  been  carved  from  stone. 

«  Good-by,"  he  said.    "  Good-by." 

He  saw  her  lips  part,  but  no  sound  came  from  them. 

So  he  went  away.  He  scarcely  felt  the  floor  beneath 
his  feet.  He  saw  nothing  of  the  room  about  him.  It 
seemed  as  if  there  was  an  endless  journey  between  him- 
self and  the  door  through  which  he  was  to  pass.  The 
extremity  of  his  mortal  agony  was  like  drunkenness. 

When  he  was  gone,  she  fell  with  a  shudder,  and  lay 
still  with  her  cheek  against  the  crimson  cushion. 

The  professor  was  sitting  at  her  bedside  when  she 
opened  her  eyes  again.  Her  first  recognition  was  of  his 
figure,  sitting,  the  head  bowed  upon  the  hand,  as  she 
had  seen  it  when  she  came  first  into  the  house. 

"Papa,/  she  said,  "you  are  with  me?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  he  answered. 

"  And  —  there  is  no  one  else  ?  " 

"No,  my  dear." 

She  put  out  her  hand  and  laid  it  upon  his  arm.  He 
thought,  with  a  bitter  pang,  that  she  did  it  as  she  had 
often  done  it  in  her  girlhood,  and  that:  in  spite  of  the 
change  in  her,  she  wore  a  look  which  seemed  to  belong 
to  those  days  too. 

"  You  will  stay  with  me,"  she  said.  *  I  have  coma 
back  to  you." 


532  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTBATHHT. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

Miss  JESSUP  was  very  eloquent  in  the  paragraph 
which  she  devoted  to  the  announcement  of  the  depart- 
ure of  Colonel  Tredennis,  w  the  well-kown  hero  of  the 
plains,  whose  fine,  bronzed  face  and  soldierly  figure 
have  become  so  familiar  to  us  during  the  past  three  sea- 
sons." She  could  scarcely  express  the  regret  felt  by 
the  many  friends  he  had  made,  on  losing  him,  and,  in- 
deed, there  ran  throughout  the  flowers  of  speech  a  sug- 
gestion of  kindly,  admiring  sympathy  and  womanly 
good-feeling  which  quite  went  to  the  colonel's  heart, 
and  made  him  wonder  at  his  own  good  fortune  when  he 
read  the  paragraph  in  question.  He  was  far  away  from 
Washington  when  the  paper  reached  him.  He  had  be- 
come tired  of  life  at  the  Capital,  it  was  said,  and  had 
been  glad  to  exchange  with  a  man  who  found  its  gaye- 
ties  better  suited  to  him. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said  to  himself  when  he  heard  of  this 
report,  "that  they  were  not  suited  to  me,  nor  I  to 
them." 

How  he  lived  through  the  weeks,  performing  the  or- 
dinary routine  of  his  duty,  and  bearing  with  him  hour 
by  hour,  night  and  day,  the  load  of  grief  and  well-nigh 
intolerable  anguish  which  he  knew  was  never  to  be 
lighter,  he  did  not  know.  The  days  came  and  went 
It  was  morning,  noon,  or  night,  and  he  did  not  feel  the 
hours  either  long  or  short.  There  were  nights  when, 
his  work  being  done,  he  returned  to  his  quarters  and 
staggered  to  his  seat,  falling  upon  it  blind  and  sick  with 
the  heavy  horror  of  the  day. 

"This,"  he  would  say,  again  and  again,  "this  is  un- 
natural. To  bear  such  tcrture  and  live  through  it  seemi 
scarcely  h  imar  " 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  533 

Sometimes  he  was  so  wrought  upon  by  it  physically 
that  he  thought  he  should  not  live  through  it ;  but  he 
bore  so  much  that  at  last  he  gained  a  hopeless  faith  in 
his  own  endurance.  He  was  not  alone.  It  was  as  he 
had  told  her  it  would  be.  From  the  hour  that  he  looked 
his  last  upon  her,  it  seemed  that  her  face  had  never 
faded  from  before  his  aching  eyes.  He  had  all  the  past 
to  live  over  again,  all  its  bitter  mysteries  to  read  in  a 
new  light  and  to  learn  to  understand. 

There  was  time  enough  now  for  him  to  think  it  all 
over  slowly,  to  recall  to  his  mind  every  look  and  change 
and  tone ;  her  caprices,  her  coldness,  the  wounds  she 
had  given  him,  he  bore  them  all  again,  and  each  time 
he  came  back  with  a  pang  more  terrible  to  that  last 
moment  —  to  that  last  look,  to  her  last,  broken  words. 

"  O  God  I  "  he  cried,  "  does  she  bear  this  too?" 

He  knew  nothing  of  her  save  what  he  gained  at  rare 
intervals  from  Miss  Jessup's  society  column,  which  he 
read  deliberately  from  beginning  to  end  as  each  paper 
reached  him.  The  friends  of  Mrs.  Amory,  Miss  Jes- 
sup's  first  statement  announced,  would  regret  to  learn 
that  the  health  of  that  charming  young  wife  and  mother 
was  so  far  from  being  what  was  to  be  desired,  that  it 
necessitated  a  temporary  absence  from  those  social  cir- 
cles of  which  she  was  so  bright  and  graceful  an  orna- 
ment. For  a  while  her  name  was  missing  from  the  lists 
of  those  who  appeared  at  the  various  entertainments, 
and  then  he  began  occasionally  to  see  it  again,  and  found 
a  little  sad  comfort  in  the  thought  that  she  must  bo 
stronger.  His  kind,  brown  face  changed  greatly  in 
these  days  ;  it  grew  lean  and  haggard  and  hopeless,  and 
here  and  there  a  gray  thread  showed  itself  in  his  close, 
soldier -cropped  hair.  He  planned  out  heavy  work  for 
himself,  and  kept  close  in  his  quarters,  and  those  of  his 
friends  who  had  known  him  before  his  stay  in  Washing- 
ton began  to  ask  each  other  what  had  so  broken  Philip 
Tredennis. 

The  first  time  that  Mrs.  Amory  appeared  in  society, 


534  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

after  her  indisposition,  was  at  the  house  of  her  friend } 
Mrs.  Sylvestre.  During  her  temporary  seclusion  she 
had  seen  Mrs.  Sylvestre  frequently.  There  had  been 
few  days  when  Agnes  had  not  spent  some  hours  with 
her.  When  she  had  been  denied  to  every  one  else 
Agues  was  admitted. 

"  It  is  only  fatigue,  this,"  Bertha  had  said ;  w  but 
other  people  tire  me  so  !  You  never  tire  me." 

She  was  not  confined  to  her  bed.  She  had  changed 
her  room,  taking  possession  of  the  pretty  pink  and  blue 
chamber,  and  lay  upon  the  sofa  through  the  days,  some- 
times looking  at  the  fire,  often  with  her  eyes  closed. 

The  two  conversed  but  little ;  frequently  there  was 
silence  between  them  for  some  time ;  but  Agnes  knew 
that  she  was  doing  as  Bertha  wished  when  she  came  and 
sat  with  her. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  Mrs.  Sylvestre  came  in  one 
morning  and  found  Bertha  dressed  and  sitting  in  a 
chair. 

"I  am  going  downstairs,"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  strong  enough  ?  "  Agnes  asked. 
She  did  not  look  so. 

"  I  must  begin  to  try  to  do  something,"  was  the  indi- 
rect reply.  "  One  must  always  begin.  I  want  to  lie 
still  and  not  speak  or  move  ;  but  I  must  not  do  that.  I 
will  go  downstairs,  and  I  think  I  should  like  to  see 
Laurence." 

As  she  went  down  the  staircase  she  moved  very  slowly, 
and  Agnes  saw  that  she  clung  to  the  balustrade  for  sup- 
port. When  she  reached  the  parlor  door  she  paused  for 
a  moment,  then  crossed  the  threshold  a  little  hurriedly, 
and  went  to  the  sofa  and  sat  down.  She  was  tremulous, 
and  tears  had  risen  to  her  eyes  from  very  weakness. 

"  I  thought  I  was  stronger,"  she  said.  But  she  said 
nothing  more  until,  a  few  moments  later,  she  began  to 
speak  of  Tcm  and  Kitty,  in  whom  she  had  been  much 
interested.  It  had  been  at  her  suggestion  that,  aftei 
divers  fruitless  efforts,  the  struggle  to  obtain  Tom  a 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  535 

"place"  had  been  abandoned,  and  finally  there  had  been 
procured  for  him  a  position,  likely  to  prove  permanent, 
in  a  house  of  business,  where  principles  might  be  of 
value.  Tom's  lungs  were  still  a  trhle  delicate,  but  he 
was  rapturously  happy  in  the  small  home,  to  purchase 
which  Mrs.  Sylvestre  had  advanced  the  means,  and  bin 
simple  bliss  was  greatly  added  to  by  the  advent  of  Kitty's 
baby. 

So  they  talked  of  Tom  and  Kitty  and  the  baby,  and 
of  Arbuthnot,  and  his  friendship  for  them,  and  the 
oddities  of  it,  and  his  way  of  making  his  efforts  and 
kindness  seem  more  than  half  a  jest. 

"  No  one  can  be  kinder  than  Laurence,"  Bertha  said. 
"  No  one  could  be  a  truer  friend." 

"  I  think  so  now,"  Agnes  answered,  quietly. 

"He  is  not  so  light,  after  all,"  said  Bertha.  "Per- 
haps few  of  us  are  quite  as  light  as  we  seem." 

"  I  did  him  injustice  at  first,"  Agnes  replied.  "  I 
understand  him  better  now." 

"If  he  should  go  away  you  would  miss  him  a  little," 
said  Bertha.  "  He  is  a  person  one  misses  when  he  ia 
absent." 

"  Does  he  "  —  Agnes  began.  "  I  have  not  heard  him 
speak  of  going  away." 

"  There  is  just  a  likelihood  of  it,"  Bertha  returned. 
"  Papa  has  been  making  an  effort  for  him  with  the  Sec- 
retary of  State.  He  might  be  sent  abroad." 

"  I  have  not  heard  him  refer  to  the  possibility,"  said 
Agnes.  Her  manner  was  still  quiet,  but  she  had  made 
a  slight  involuntary  movement,  which  closed  the  book 
she  held. 

w  I  do  not  think  papa  has  spoken  to  him  for  some 
time,"  Bertha  replied.  "And  when  he  first  referred  to 
his  plan  Laurence  thought  it  out  of  the  question,  and 
did  not  appear  to  regard  it  seriously." 

For  a  few  moments  Mrs.  Sylvestre  did  not  speak. 
Then  she  said : 

w  Certainly  it  would  be  much  better  for  him  thao  to 
remain  here." 


538  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

"If  he  should  go,"  said  Bertha,  "no  one  will  misi 
him  as  I  shall.  We  used  to  be  so  gay  together,  and 
now"  — 

She  did  not  end  her  sentence,  and  for  a  while  neither 
.)f  them  spoke  again,  and  she  lay  quite  still.  Agnes 
remained  to  dine  with  her,  and  in  the  evening  Arbuth- 
iiut  came  in. 

When  he  entered  the  bright,  familiar  room  he  found 
himself  glancing  round  it,  trying  to  understand  exactly 
what  mysterious  change  had  come  upon  it.  There  was 
no  change  in  its  belongings,  — the  touches  of  color,  the 
scattered  trifles,  the  pictures  and  draperies  wore  their 
old-time  look  of  having  been  arranged  by  one  deft 
hand ;  but  it  did  not  seem  to  be  the  room  he  had 
known  so  long,  —  the  room  he  had  been  so  fond  of, 
and  had  counted  the  prettiest  and  most  inspiring  place 
he  knew. 

Bertha  had  not  left  the  sofa ;  she  was  talking  to 
Agnes,  who  stood  near  her.  She  had  a  brilliant  flush 
on  her  cheeks,  her  eyes  were  bright  when  she  raised 
them  to  greet  him,  and  her  hand,  as  he  took  it,  was  hot 
and  tremulous. 

"Naturally,"  she  said,  "you  will  begin  to  vaunt  your- 
self. You  told  me  I  should  break  down  if  I  did  not 
take  care  of  myself,  and  I  have  broken  down  —  a  little. 
I  am  reduced  to  lying  on  sofas.  Don't  you  know  how 
I  always  derided  women  who  lie  on  sofas?  This  is 
retribution ;  but  don't  meet  it  with  too  haughty  and 
vainglorious  a  spirit ;  before  Lent  I  shall  be  as  gay  as 
ever.'* 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  he  answered.  "  But  in  the  mean- 
time allow  me  to  congratulate  you  on  the  fact  that  the 
sofa  is  not  entirely  unbecoming." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said.  "  Will  you  sit  down  now 
and  tell  me  —  tell  me  what  people  are  saying  ?  " 

«  Of  "—he  began. 

She  smiled. 

"  Of  me,"  she  answered.    "  They  were  saying  a  greai 


THROUGH   OKE   ADMINISTRATION.  537 

deal  of  me  a  week  ago ;  tell  me  what  they  say  now. 
You  must  hear  in  going  your  giddy  rounds." 

"You  are  very  well  treated,"  he  replied.  "There  is 
a  certain  great  lady  who  is  most  uncomfortably  com- 
mented upon.  I  can  scarcely  imagine  that  she  en- 
joys it." 

Her  smile  ended  in  a  fatigued  sigh. 

"  The  tide  turned  very  quickly,"  she  said.  "  It  is  well 
for  me  that  it  did.  I  should  not  have  had  much  mercy 
if  I  had  stood  alone.  Ah  !  it  was  a  good  thing  for  me 
that  you  were  all  so  brave.  You  might  have  deserted 
me,  too  —  it  would  have  been  very  simple  —  and  then 
—then  the  gates  of  paradise  would  have  been  shut 
against  me." 

"  That  figure  of  speech  meaning  —  ?  "  suggested 
Arbuthnot. 

"  That  I  should  have  been  invited  to  no  more  dinner- 
parties and  receptions ;  that  nobody  would  have  come 
up  to  my  Thursday  Evenings  ;  that  Miss  Jessup  would 
never  again  have  mentioned  me  in  the  Wabash  Gazette" 

"  That  would  have  been  very  bitter,"  he  answered. 

"Yes,"  she  returned,  "it  would  have  been  bitter, 
indeed." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said  next,  "  that  I  have  come  to- 
night partly  for  the  reason  that  I  have  something  to  tell 
you?" 

"  I  rather  suspected  it,"  she  replied,  "  though  I  could 
scarcely  explain  why." 

"  Am  I  to  hear  it,  too  ?  "  inquired  Agnes. 

"If  you  are  kind  enough  to  be  interested,"  he 
answered.  "  It  will  seem  a  slight  enough  affair  to  the 
world  at  large,  but  it  seems  rather  tremendous  to  me. 
I  feel  a  trifle  overpowered  and  nervous.  Through  the 
kind  efforts  of  Professor  Herrick  I  have  been  honored 
with  the  offer  of  a  place  abroad." 

Bertha  held  out  her  hand. 

"Minister  to  the  Court  of  St.  James!"  she  said. 
"  How  they  will  congratulate  themselves  in  London  I n 


538  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

*They  would,"  h«  replied,  "if  an  ill-adjusted  and 
singularly  unappreciative  government  had  not  particu- 
larized a  modest  corner  of  Germany  as  standing  in 
greater  need  of  my  special  abilities."  But  he  took  her 
offered  hand. 

When  he  glanced  at  Mrs.  Sylvestre  —  truth  to  say  he 
had  taken  some  precautions  against  seeing  her  at  all  as 
he  made  his  announcement  —  he  found  her  bestowing 
upon  him  one  of  the  calmest  of  her  soft,  reflective  looks. 

"I  used  to  like  some  of  those  quiet  places  in  Ger- 
many," she  said ;  ft  but  you  will  find  it  a  change  from 
Washington." 

"  I  think,"  he  answered,  "  that  I  should  like  a  change 
from  Washington ; "  and  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken  he 
detected  the  touch  of  acrid  feeling  in  his  words. 

"I  should  fancy  myself,"  she  said,  her  soft  look 
entirely  undisturbed,  "  that  it  might  be  agreeable  after 
one  had  been  here  some  time." 

He  had  always  admired  beyond  expression  that  touch 
of  half-forgetful,  pensive  calmness  in  her  voice  and  eyes, 
but  he  did  not  enjoy  it  just  now. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  temperament,  I  suppose,"  was  his 
thought ;  "  but,  after  all,  we  have  been  friends." 

Neither  could  it  be  said  that  he  enjoyed  the  pretty 
and  picturesque  stories  of  German  life  she  told  after- 
ward. They  were  told  so  well  that  they  brought  very 
near  the  life  he  might  expect  to  lead,  and  he  was  not 
exactly  in  the  mood  to  care  to  stand  face  to  face  with 
it.  Bui  he  controlled  himself  sufficiently  to  make  an 
excellent  audience,  and  never  had  been  outwardly  in 
better  spirits  than  he  was  after  the  stories  were  told. 
He  was  cool  and  vivacious ;  he  told  a  story  or  two  him- 
self; he  was  in  good  voice  when  he  went  to  the  piano 
and  sang.  They  were  all  laughing  when  Agnes  left  the 
room  to  put  on  her  wraps  to  return  home. 

When  she  was  gone  the  laugh  died  down  with  od<? 
suddenness. 

" Larry,"  said  Bertha,  "  do  you  really  want  to  go?" 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  53$ 

*No,"  he  answered,  turning  sharply,  "I  don't  want 
to  go.  I  loathe  and  abhor  the  thought  of  it." 

!t  You  want,"  she  said,  "  to  stay  here  ?  " 

f*  Yes,  I  do,"  was  his  reply,  "  and  that  decides  mo." 

"To  go?"  she  asked,  watching  his  pale,  disturbed 
face. 

"Yes,  to  go  !  There  is  nothing  to  stay  here  for.  I 
need  the  change.  I  have  been  here  long  enough  —  too 
long ! " 

"  Yes,"  she  returned,  "  I  think  you  have  been  here 
too  long.  You  had  better  go  away  —  if  you  think 
there  is  nothing  to  stay  for." 

"  When  a  man  has  nothing  to  offer  "  —  he  broke  off 
and  flushed  up  hotly.  "  If  I  had  a  shadow  of  a  right 
to  a  reason  for  staying,"  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  suppose 
I  should  not  hold  on  to  it,  and  fight  for  it,  and  demand 
what  belonged  to  me  ?  There  might  be  a  struggle  — 
there  would  be ;  but  no  other  man  should  have  one  jot 
or  tittle  that  persistence  and  effort  might  win  in  time 
for  me  !  A  man  who  gives  up  is  a  fool !  I  have  noth- 
ing to  give  up.  I  haven't  even  the  right  to  surrender ! 
I  hadn't  the  right  to  enter  the  field  and  take  my  wounds 
like  a  man  !  It  is  pleasant  to  reflect  that  it  is  my  own 
—  fault.  I  trifled  with  my  life  ;  now  I  want  it,  and  I 
can't  get  it  back." 

"Ah  !  "  she  said,  "that  is  an  old  story  I " 

And  then  Agnes  returned,  and  he  took  her  home. 

On  their  way  there  they  talked  principally  of  Tom 
and  Kitty. 

"  They  will  miss  you  greatly,"  Agnes  said. 

"  They  will  be  very  kind  to  do  it,"  was  his  reply. 

"We  shall  all  miss  you,"  she  added. 

"That  will  be  kinder  still,"  he  answered.  "Might  I 
be  permitted  to  quote  the  ancient  anecdote  of  the  colored 
warrior,  who,  on  running  away  in  battle,  was  reproached 
and  told  that  a  single  life  counted  as  nothing  on  such 
great  occasions,  and  that  if  he  had  fallen  he  would  not 
have  been  missed, —  his  reply  to  this  heroic  FtatemenJ 


540  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

of  the  case  being,  that  he  should  have  been  likely  to  misi 
himself.  I  shall  miss  myself,  and  already  a  gentle  melan- 
choly begins  to  steal  over  me.  I  am  not  the  gleesome 
creature  I  was  before  good  luck  befell  me." 

But,  despite  this  lightness  of  tone,  their  walk  was  not 
a  very  cheerful  one  ;  indeed,  after  this  speech  they  were 
rather  quiet,  and  they  parted  with  few  words  at  the 
door,  Arbuthnot  declining  to  go  into  the  house. 

When  Agnes  entered  alone  Mrs.  Merriam  looked  up 
from  her  novel  in  some  surprise  • 

"I  thought  I  heard  Mr.  Arbuthnot,"  she  said. 

''He  left  me  at  the  door,"  Mrs.  Sylvestre  answered. 

"  What  I "  said  Mrs.  Merriam,  "  without  coming  to  say 
good-night  to  me  !  I  wanted  to  tell  him  what  a  dissi- 
pated evening  I  have  been  spending  with  my  new  book." 

"He  has  been  telling  us  good  news,"  said  Agnes, 
standing  before  the  fire  and  loosening  her  furs.  "  He 
has  been  offered  a  consulship." 

Mrs.  Merriam  closed  her  book  and  laid  it  on  the 
table. 

"  Will  he  accept  it?"  she  asked. 

"  He  could  scarcely  refuse  it,"  Agnes  replied.  "  It  is 
a  decided  advance;  he  likes  the  life  abroad,  and  it 
might  even  lead  to  something  better  in  the  future ;  at 
least  one  rather  fancies  such  things  are  an  opening." 

"  It  is  true,"  reflected  Mrs.  Merriam,  "  that  he  seems 
to  have  no  particular  ties  to  hold  him  in  one  place  rather 
than  another." 

" None,"  said  Agnes.  "I  don't  know  whether  that  is 
his  fortune  or  his  misfortune." 

"His  fortune,"  said  Mrs.  Merriam.  "He  is  of  tho 
nature  to  know  how  to  value  them.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  he  may  form  them  if  he  goes  abroad.  It  is  not  too 
late." 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Agnes.  "  That  would  be  anothoi 
reason  why  it  would  be  better  for  him  to  go." 

"  Still,"  remarked  Mrs.  Merriam,  "  for  my  own  part, 
I  don't  call  it  good  news  that  he  is  going." 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  541 

"I  meant,"  said  Agnes,  "good  news  for  him." 

"  Ir,  is  bad  news  for  us,"  Mrs.  Merriam  replied.  "  He 
will  leave  a  gap.  I  have  grown  inconveniently  fond  of 
him  myself." 

But  Agnes  made  no  response,  and  soon  afterward 
went  to  her  room  in  silence.  She  was  rather  silent  the 
next  day  when  she  made  her  visit  to  Bertha.  Mrs. 
Merriam  observed  that  she  was  rather  silent  at  home ; 
but,  having  seen  her  retire  within  herself  before,  she 
was  too  just  to  assign  a  definite  reason  for  her  quiet 
tnood.  Still  she  watched  her  with  great  interest,  which 
had  a  fashion  of  deepening  when  Laurence  Arbuthnot 
appeared  upon  the  scene.  But  there  was  no  change  in 
her  manner  toward  Arbuthnot.  She  was  glad  to  see 
him ;  she  was  interested  in  his  plans.  Her  gentle 
pleasure  in  his  society  seemed  neither  greater  nor  less 
than  usual ;  her  gentle  regret  at  his  approaching  absence 
from  their  circle  said  absolutely  nothing.  In  the  gayeties 
of  the  closing  season  they  saw  even  more  of  each  other 
than  usual. 

"  It  will  be  generous  of  you  to  allow  me  a  few  addi- 
tional privileges,"  Arbuthnot  said;  "an  extra  dance  or 
so,  for  instance,  on  occasion  ;  a  few  more  calls  that  I  am 
entitled  to.  Will  you  kindly,  if  you  please,  regard  me 
in  the  light  of  a  condemned  criminal,  and  be  lenient  with 
me  in  my  last  moments  ?  " 

She  did  not  refuse  to  be  lenient  with  him.  Much  as 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  enjoying  the  evenings  spent 
in  her  parlor,  he  had  never  spent  evenings  such  as  fell 
to  him  in  these  last  days.  Somehow  it  happened  that 
he  found  her  alone  more  frequently.  Mrs.  Merriam 
had  letters  to  write,  or  was  otherwise  occupied ;  so  it 
chanced  that  he  saw  her  as  it  had  not  been  his  fortune 
to  see  her  very  often. 

But  it  was  decided  that  he  was  to  spend  no  more 
winters  in  Washington,  for  some  time,  at  least ;  and, 
though  he  spent  his  evenings  thus  agreeably,  he  was 
amking  daily  preparation  for  his  departure,  and  itcannol 


542  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

be  said  that  he  enjoyed  the  task.  There  had  been  a 
time,  it  is  true,  when  he  would  have  greeted  with 
pleasure  the  prospect  of  the  change  before  him ;  but 
that  time  was  past. 

"  I  am  having  my  bad  quarter  of  an  hour,"  he  said, 
wand  it  serves  me  right." 

But  as  the  days  slipped  by  he  found  it  even  a  worse 
quarter  of  an  hour  than  he  had  fancied  it  would  be.  It 
cost  him  an  effort  to  bear  himself  as  it  was  only  dis- 
cretion that  he  should.  His  one  resource  lay  in  allow- 
ing himself  no  leisure.  When  he  was  not  otherwise 
occupied,  he  spent  his  time  with  his  friends.  He  was 
oftenest  with  the  professor  and  Bertha.  He  had  some 
quiet  hours  in  the  professor's  study,  and  in  the  parlor, 
where  Bertha  sat  or  lay  upon  the  sofa  before  the  fire. 
She  did  not  allow  herself  to  lie  upon  the  sofa  often,  and 
refused  to  be  regarded  as  an  invalid ;  but  Arbuthnot 
never  found  himself  alone  with  her  without  an  over- 
powering realization  of  the  change  which  had  taken 
place  in  her.  But  she  rarely  spoke  of  herself. 

"There  is  nothing  more,"  she  said,  once,  "to  say 
about  me." 

She  was  willing  enough  to  speak  of  him,  however, 
and  of  his  future,  and  her  gentleness  often  moved 
him  deeply. 

"We  have  been  such  good  friends,"  she  would  say, 
—  "  such  good  friends.  It  is  not  often  that  a  man  is  as 
true  a  friend  to  a  woman  as  you  have  been  to  me.  I 
wish  —  oh,  I  wish  you  might  be  happy  ! " 

"It  is  too  late,"  he  would  reply,  "but  I  shall  not 
waste  time  in  complaining.  I  will  even  try  not  to  waste 
it  in  regretting." 

But  he  knew  that  he  did  waste  it  so,  and  that  each 
passing  day  left  a  sharper  pang  behind  it,  and  marked 
a  greater  struggle. 

"There  is  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  this  world,"  the 
professor  said  to  him,  simply,  after  watching  him  a  few 
minutes  one  day.  "  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  ar« 
carrying  with  you  to  Germany." 


THROUGH  ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  543 

"I  am  carrying  nothing,"  Arbuthnot  answered. 
"  That  is  my  share." 

They  were  smoking  their  cigars  together,  and  through 
the  blue  haze  floating  about  him  the  professor  looked 
out  with  a  sad  face. 

"  Do  you,"  he  said,  —  "  do  you  leave  anything  behind 
you?" 

"  Everything,"  said  Arbuthnot.  The  professor  made 
a  disturbed  movement. 

"  Perhaps,"  he  said,  "this  was  a  mistake.  Perhaps 
it  would  be  better  if  you  remained.  It  is  not  yet  too 
late  "  — 

"Yes,  it  is,"  Arbuthnot  interposed,  with  a  faint  laugh. 
"And  nothing  would  induce  me  to  remain." 

It  was  on  the  occasion  of  a  reception  given  by  Mrs. 
Sylvestre  that  he  was  to  make  his  last  appearance  in 
the  social  world  before  his  departure.  He  had  laid  his 
plans  in  such  a  manner  that,  having  made  his  adieus  at 
the  end  of  the  evening,  half  an  hour  after  retiring  from 
the  parlors  he  would  be  speeding  away  from  Washing- 
ton on  his  way  to  New  York. 

"  It  will  be  a  good  exit,"  he  said.  w  And  the  eye  of 
the  unfeeling  world  being  upon  me,  I  shall  be  obliged 
to  conceal  my  emotions,  and  you  will  be  spared  the 
spectacle  of  my  anguish." 

There  were  no  particular  traces  of  anguish  upon  his 
countenance  when  he  presented  himself,  the  evening  in 
question  having  arrived.  He  appeared,  in  fact,  to  bo 
in  reasonably  good  spirits.  Nothing  could  have  been 
more  perfect  than  the  evening  was  from  first  to  last : 
the  picturesque  and  charming  home  was  at  its  best ;  Mrs. 
Sylvestre  the  most  lovely  central  figure  in  its  pictu- 
resqueness ;  Mrs.  Merriam  even  more  gracious  and 
amusing  than  usual.  The  gay  world  was  represented 
by  its  gayest  and  brightest ;  the  majority  of  those  who 
had  appeared  on  the  night  of  the  ball  appeared  again. 
Rather  late  in  the  evening  Blundel  came  in,  fresh  from 
An  exciting  debate  in  the  Senate,  and  somewhat  flushed 


544  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 

and  elated  by  it.  He  made  his  way  almost  immediately 
to  Bertha.  Those  who  stood  about  her  made  way  foi 
him  as  he  came.  She  was  not  sitting  alone  to-night ; 
there  seemed  no  likelihood  of  her  being  called  upon  to 
sit  alone  again.  She  had  not  only  regained  her  old 
place,  but  something  more.  The  professor  had  accom- 
panied her,  and  at  no  time  was  far  away  from  her.  He 
hovered  gently  about  in  her  neighborhood,  and  rarely 
lost  sight  of  her.  He  had  never  left  her  for  any  great 
length  of  time  since  the  night  Tredennis  had  gone  away. 
He  had  asked  her  no  questions,  but  they  had  grown 
very  near  to  each  other,  and  any  mystery  he  might  feel 
that  he  confronted  only  made  him  more  tender  of  her. 

When  Senator  Blundel  found  himself  standing  before 
her  he  gave  her  a  sharp  glance  of  scrutiny. 

"  Well,"  he  said, "  you  are  rested  and  better,  and  all 
the  rest  of  it.  Your  pink  gown  is  very  nice,  and  it 
gives  you  a  color  and  brightens  you  up." 

"  I  chose  the  shade  carefully,"  she  answered,  smiling. 
"  If  it  had  been  deeper  it  might  have  taken  some  color 
away  from  me.  I  am  glad  you  like  it." 

"But  you  are  well? "he  said,  a  little  persistently. 
He  was  not  so  sure  of  her,  after  all.  He  was  shrewd 
enough  to  wish  she  had  not  found  it  necessary  to  choose 
her  shade  with  such  discretion. 

She  smiled  up  at  him  again. 

"  Yes,  I  am  well,"  she  said.  "  And  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  you  again." 

But  for  several  seconds  he  did  not  answer  her ;  stand- 
ing, he  looked  at  her  in  silence  as  she  remembered  his 
doing  in  the  days  when  she  had  felt  as  if  he  was  asking 
himself  and  her  a  question.  But  she  knew  it  was  not 
the  same  question  he  was  asking  himself  now,  but 
another  one,  and  after  he  had  asked  it  he  did  not  seem 
to  discover  the  answer  to  it,  and  looked  baffled  and  un- 
certain, and  even  disturbed  and  anxious.  And  yet  her 
pretty  smile  did  not  change  in  the  least  at  any  moment 
while  he  regarded  her.  It  only  deserted  her  entirely 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  545 

once  during  the  evening.  This  was  when  she  said  her 
last  words  to  Arbuthnot.  He  had  spent  the  previous 
evening  with  her  in  her  own  parlor.  Now,  before  she 
went  away,  —  which  she  did  rather  early,  —  they  had  a 
few  minutes  together  in  the  deserted  music-room,  where 
he  took  her  while  supper  was  in  progress. 

Neither  of  them  had  any  smiles  when  they  went  in 
together  and  took  their  seats  in  a  far  corner. 

Bertha  caught  no  reflected  color  from  her  carefirfly 
chosen  pink.  Suddenly  she  looked  cold  and  worn. 

"  Laurence  ! "  she  said,  "  in  a  few  hours  "  —  and 
ptoppe4. 

He  ei^ded  for  her. 

"In  atfew  hours  I  shall  be  on  my  way  to  New  York." 

She  looked  down  at  her  flowers  and  then  up  at  him. 

"  Oh !  "\  she  said,  "  a  great  deal  will  go  with  you. 
There  is  no  one  now  who  could  take  from  me  what  you 
will.  But  'that  is  not  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  you. 
Will  you  let  me  say  to  you  what  I  have  been  thinking 
of  for  several  days,  and  wanting  to  say?" 

"  You  may  say  anything,"  he  answered. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  went  on,  hurriedly,  "  it  will  not  make 
any  difference  when  it  is  said  ;  I  don't  know."  She  put 
out  her  hand  and  touched  his  arm  with  it;  her  eyes 
looked  large  and  bright  in  their  earnest  appeal. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Larry,"  she  said;  "we 
have  been  such  good  friends,  —  the  best,  best  friends. 
I  am  going  home  soon.  I  shall  not  stay  until  the 
evening  is  over.  You  must,  I  think,  until  every 
one  is  gone  away.  You  might  —  you  might  have  a 
few  last  words  to  say  to  Agnes." 

"There  is  nothing,"  he  replied,  "that  I  could  say  to 
her." 

"  There  might  be,'  she  said  tremulously,  "  there  might 
be  —  a  few  last  words  Agnes  might  wish  to  say  to  you." 

He  put  his  head  down  upon  his  hand  and  answered 
in  a  low  tone  : 

w  It  is  impossible  that  there  should  be." 


546  THROUGH   ONE   ADMESTISTRATION. 

"  Larry,"  she  said,  "  only  you  can  find  out  whethei 
that  is  true  or  not,  and  —  don't  go  away  before  you  are 
quite  sure.  Oh  I  do  you  remember  what  I  told  you 
once  ?  —  there  is  only  one  thing  in  all  the  world  when 
all  the  rest  are  tried  and  done  with.  So  many  miss  it, 
and  then  everything  is  wrong.  DC  n't  be  too  proud, 
Larry ;  don't  reason  too  much.  If  people  are  true  to 
each  other,  and  content,  what  does  the  rest  matter  ?  I 
want  to  know  that  some  one  is  happy  like  that.  I  wish 
it  might  be  you.  If  I  have  said  too  much,  forgive  me ; 
but  you  maybe  angry  with  me.  I  will  let  you  —  if 
you  will  not  run  the  risk  of  throwing  anything  away.*' 

There  was  a  silence. 

"  Promise  me,"  she  said,  "  promise  me." 

"I  cannot  promise  you,"  he  answered. 

He  left  his  seat. 

"I  will  tell  you,"  he  said.  "I  am  driven  to-night  — 
driven !  I  never  thought  it  could  be  so,  but  »t  is  — 
even  though  I  fancied  I  had  taught  myself  better.  I 
am  bearing  a  good  deal.  I  don't  know  how  far  I  may 
trust  myself.  I  have  not  an  idea  about  it.  It  is  scarcely 
safe  for  me  to  go  near  her.  I  have  not  been  near  her 
often  to-night.  I  am  driven.  I  don't  know  that  I  shall 
get  out  of  the  house  safely.  I  don't  know  how  far  I 
can  go,  if  I  do  get  out  of  it,  without  coming  back  and 
making  some  kind  of  an  outcry  to  her.  One  can't  bear 
everything  indefinitely.  It  seems  to  me  now  that  the 
only  decent  end  to  this  woukl  be  for  me  to  go  as  quickly 
as  possible,  and  not  look  back ;  but  there  never  was  a 
more  impotent  creature  than  I  know  I  am  to-night. 
The  sight  of  her  is  too  much  for  me.  She  looks  like  a 
tall,  white  flower.  She  is  a  little  pale  to-night  —  and 
the  look  in  her  eyes  —  I  wish  she  were  pale  for  sorrow 
—  for  me.  I  wish  she  was  suffering ;  but  she  is  not." 

"  She  could  not  tell  you  if  she  were,"  said  Bertha. 

"That  is  very  true,"  he  answered. 

"  Don't  go  away,"  she  said,  "  until  you  have  said  good* 
by  to  her  alone." 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  547 

"  Don't  you  see,"  he  replied,  desperately,  "  that  I  am 
in  the  condition  to  be  unable  to  go  until  I  am  actually 
forced?  Oh,"  he  added,  bitterly,  "rest  assured  I  shall 
hang  about  long  enough  ! "  But  when  he  returned  to  the 
supper-room,  and  gave  his  attention  to  his  usual  duties, 
he  was  entirely  himself  again,  so  far  as  his  outward 
bearing  went.  He  bore  about  ices  and  salads,  and  en- 
deared himself  beyond  measure  to  dowagers,  with  appe- 
tites, who  lay  in  wait.  He  received  their  expressions 
of  grief  at  his  approaching  departure  with  decorum  not 
too  grave  and  sufficiently  grateful.  He  made  himself 
as  useful  and  agreeable  as  usual. 

"He  is  always  ready  and  amiable,  that  Mr.  Arbuth- 
not,"  remarked  a  well-seasoned,  elderly  matron,  who 
recognized  useful  material  when  she  saw  it. 

And  Agnes,  who  had  chanced  to  see  him  just  as  hia 
civilities  won  him  this  encomium,  reflected  upon  him 
for  a  moment  with  a  soft  gaze,  and  then  turned  away 
with  a  secret  thought  her  face  did  not  betray. 

At  last  the  rooms  began  to  thin  out.  One  party  after 
another  took  its  departure,  disappearing  up  the  stairs 
and  reappearing  afterward,  descending  and  passing 
through  the  hall  to  the  carnages,  which  rolled  up,  one 
after  another,  as  they  were  called.  Agnes  stood  near 
the  door- way  with  Mrs.  Merriam,  speaking  the  last 
words  to  her  guests  as  they  left  her.  She  was  still  a  little 
pale,  but  the  fatigues  of  the  evening  might  easily  have 
left  her  more  so.  Arbuthnot  found  himself  lingering 
with  an  agonizing  sense  of  disgust  at  his  folly.  Several 
times  he  thought  he  would  go  with  the  rest,  and  then 
discovered  that  the  step  would  cost  him  a  struggle  to 
which  he  was  not  equal.  Agnes  did  not  look  at  him ; 
Mrs.  Merriam  did. 

"  You  must  not  leave  us  just  yet,"  she  said.  "  We 
want  your  last  moments.  It  would  be  absurd  to  bid 
you  good-night  as  if  we  were  to  see  you  to-morrow. 
Talk  to  me  until  Agnes  has  done  with  these  people." 

He   could  have   embraced   her.      He  was  perfectly 


548  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

aware  that,  mentally,  he  had  lost  all  his  dignity,  but  h« 
could  do  nothing  more  than  recognize  the  fact  with 
unsparing  clearness,  and  gird  at  himself  for  his  weak- 
ness. 

w  If  I  were  a  boy  of  sixteen,"  he  said  inwardly,  "  1 
should  comport  myself  in  something  the  same  manner. 
I  could  grovel  at  this  kind  old  creature's  feet  because 
she  has  taken  a  little  notice  of  me." 

But  at  length  the  last  guest  had  departed,  the  last 
carriage  had  been  called  and  had  rolled  away.  Agnes 
turned  from  the  door- way  and  walked  slowly  to  the  fire- 
place. 

"  How  empty  the  rooms  look  I "  she  said. 

w  You  should  have  a  glass  of  wine,"  Mrs.  Merriam 
suggested.  "  You  are  certainly  more  tired  than  you 
should  be.  You  are  not  as  strong  as  I  was  at  your  age." 

Arbuthnot  went  for  the  glass  of  wine  into  the  adjoin- 
ing room.  He  was  glad  to  absent  himself  for  a  moment. 

"  In  ten  minutes  I  shall  be  out  of  the  house,"  he  said  ; 
"perhaps  in  five." 

When  he  returned  to  the  parlor  Mrs.  Merriam  had 
disappeared.  Agnes  stood  upon  the  hearth,  looking 
down.  She  lifted  her  eyes  with  a  gentle  smile. 

"  Aunt  Mildred  is  going  to  ask  you  to  execute  a  little 
commission  for  her,"  she  said.  "  She  will  be  down  soon, 
I  think." 

For  the  moment  he  was  sufficiently  abandoned  and 
ungrateful  to  have  lost  all  interest  in  Mrs.  Merriam.  It 
seemed  incredible  that  he  had  only  ten  minutes  befor« 
him  and  yet  could  retain  composure  enough  to  reply 
with  perfect  steadiness. 

"Perhaps," he  thought,  desperately,  "I  am  not  going 
to  do  it  so  villanously,  after  all." 

He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  very  steadily  upon  her.  The 
&oft  calm  of  her  manner  seemed  to  give  him  a  sort  of 
strength.  Nothing  could  have  been  sweeter  or  nroro 
unmoved  than  her  voice. 

WI  was  a  little  afraid  you  would  go  away  early/  sh« 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  548 

wild,  "and  that  we  could  not  bid  you  good-by 
quietly." 

"Don't  bid  me  good-by  too  quietly,"  he  answered. 
"  You  will  excuse  my  emotion,  I  am  sure  ?  " 

"You  have  been  in  Washington,"  she  said,  "long 
enough  to  feel  sorry  to  leave  it." 

He  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  I  have  spent  ten  years  here,"  he  said ;  "  one  grows 
fond  of  a  place,  naturally." 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

Then  she  added : 

"  Your  steamer  sails  "  — 

"  On  Wednesday,"  was  his  answer. 

It  was  true  that  he  was  driven.  He  was  so  hard 
driven  at  this  moment  that  he  glanced  furtively  at  the 
mirror,  half  fearing  to  find  his  face  ashen. 

"  My  train  leaves  in  an  hour,"  he  said ;  "  I  will  bid 
you  "  — 

If°>  held  out  his  hand  without  ending  his  sentence. 
She  kave  him  her  slender,  cold  fingers  passively. 

"  Good-by  !  "  she  said. 

Mrs.  Merriam  was  not  mentioned.  She  was  forgotten. 
Arbuthnot  had  not  thought  once  of  the  possibility  of 
her  return. 

He  dropped  Agnes'  hand,  and  simply  turned  round 
and  went  out  of  the  room. 

His  ten  minutes  were  over;  it  was  all  over.  This 
was  his  thought  as  he  went  up  the  staircase.  He  went 
into  the  deserted  upper  room  where  he  had  left  his  over- 
coat. It  was  quite  empty,  the  servant  in  charge  having 
congratulated  himself  that  his  duties  for  the  night  were 
over,  and  joined  his  fellows  downstairs.  One  overcoat, 
he  had  probably  fancied,  might  take  care  of  itself, 
especially  an  overcoat  sufficiently  familiar  with  the 
establishment  to  outstay  all  the  rest.  The  garment  in 
question  hung  over  the  back  of  a  chair.  Arbuthnot 
took  it  up  and  put  it  on  with  unnecessary  haste ;  then 
he  took  his  hat ;  then  he  stopped.  He  sank  into  the 


550  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

chair  and  dropped  his  brow  upon  his  hand ;  he  waa 
actually  breathless.  He  passed  through  a  desperate 
moment  as  he  sat  there ;  when  it  was  over  he  rose, 
deliberately  freed  himself  from  his  coat  again,  and  went 
downstairs.  When  he  reentered  the  parlor  Agnes 
rose  hurriedly  from  the  sofa,  leaving  her  handkerchief 
on  the  side-cushion,  on  which  there  was  a  little  indented 
spot.  She  made  a  rapid  step  toward  him,  her  head  hek1 
erect,  her  eyes  at  once  telling  their  own  story,  and  com- 
manding him  to  disbelieve  it ;  her  face  so  inexpressibly 
sweet  in  its  sadness  that  his  heart  leaped  in  his  side. 

"  You  have  left  something  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "I  left  — you." 

She  sat  down  upon  the  sofa  without  a  word.  He  saw 
the  large  tears  well  up  into  her  eyes,  and  they  helped 
him  to  go  on  as  nothing  else  would  have  done. 

"I  couldn't  go  away,"  he  said.  "There  was  no  use 
trying.  I  could  not  leave  you  in  that  cold  way,  as  if 
our  parting  were  only  an  ordinary,  conventional  one. 
There  is  nothing  conventional  about  my  side  of  it.  I 
am  helpless  with  misery.  I  have  lost  my  last  shred  of 
self-respect.  I  had  to  come  back  and  ask  you  to  be  a 
little  kinder  to  me.  I  don't  think  you  know  how  cold 
you  were.  It  was  like  death  to  drop  your  hand  and 
turn  away  like  that.  Such  a  thing  must  be  unendurable 
to  a  man  who  loves  a  woman." 

He  .came  nearer. 

"  Beggars  should  be  humble,"  he  said.  "  I  am  humble 
enough.  I  only  ask  you  to  say  good-by  a  little  more 
kindly." 

Her  eyes  were  full  and  more  beautiful  than  ever. 
She  put  out  her  hand  and  touched  the  sofa  at  her  side. 

"Will  you  sit  here?"  she  said. 

"  What !"  he  cried,  —  "I?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  scarcely  above  her  breath,  "  no 
one  else."  He  took  the  place  and  her  slender  hand. 

"I  have  no  right  to  this,"  he  said.  "No  one  knows 
that  so  well  as  I.  I  am  doing  a  terrible,  daring  thing/ 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  551 

w  It  is  a  daring  thing  for  us  both,"  she  said.  *  I  havt 
always  been  afraid ;  but  it  cost  me  too  much  when  you 
went  out  of  the  door." 

"Did  it?"  he  said,  and  folded  her  hand  close  against 
his  breast.    "  Oh ! "  he  whispered,  "  I  will  be  very  tender 
to  you." 
"She  lifted  her  soft  eyes. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  that  is  what  I  need." 


652  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XLJ. 

THE  next  six  months  Laurence  Arbuthnot  spent  in 
bis  quiet  corner  of  Germany,  devoting  all  his  leisure 
moments  to  the  study  of  certain  legal  terms  to  which 
he  had  given  some  attention  at  a  previous  time,  when, 
partly  as  a  whim,  partly  as  the  result  of  a  spasm  of 
prudence,  he  had  woven  himself  a  strand  of  thread  to 
cling  to  in  the  vague  future  by  taking  a  course  of  law. 
His  plan  now  was  to  strengthen  this  thread  until  it 
might  be  depended  upon,  and  he  spared  no  determined 
and  persistent  effort  which  might  assist  him  to  the 
attainment  of  this  object. 

"I  find  myself  an  astonishingly  resolute  person,"  he 
wrote  to  Agnes.  "  I  am  also  industrious.  Resolution 
and  industry  never  before  struck  me  as  being  qualities 
I  might  lay  claim  to  with  any  degree  of  justice.  Dr. 
Watts  himself,  with  his  entirely  objectionable  bee, 
could  not '  improve  each  shining  hour '  with  more  vigor 
than  I  do,  but — I  have  an  object,  and  the  hours  are 
shining.  Once  there  seemed  no  reason  for  them.  It  is 
not  so  now.  I  will  confess  that  I  used  to  hate  these 
things.  Do  you  repose  sufficient  confidence  in  me  yet 
to  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  actually  feel  a 
dawning  interest  in  Blackstone,  and  do  not  shudder  at 
the  thought  of  the  lectures  I  shall  attend  in  Paris? 
Perhaps  I  do  not  reflect  upon  them  with  due  delibera- 
tion and  coolness  —  I  cannot  help  remembering  that 
you  will  be  with  me." 

When  he  resigned  his  position  and  went  to  Paris  she 
was  with  him.  He  had  made  a  brief  visit  to  Washing- 
ton and  taken  her  away,  leaving  Mrs.  Merriam  to  adorn 
the  house  in  Lafayette  Square,  and  keep  its  hearth  warm 
until  such  time  as  they  should  return. 


THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  i)f)<J 

It  was  when  they  \vere  in  Paris  that  they  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Richard  Amory,  who  was  very 
well  known  and  exceedingly  popular  in  the  American 
colony.  He  was  in  the  most  delightful,  buoyant  spirits  ? 
he  had  b3en  very  fortunate  ;  a  certain  investment  of  his 
had  just  turned  out  very  well,  and  brought  him  large 
returns.  He  was  quite  willing  to  talk  about  it  and  him- 
self, and  was  enraptured  at  seeing  his  friends.  The 
news  of  their  marriage  delighted  him  ;  he  was  enchanting 
in  his  warm  interest  in  their  happiness.  He  seemed, 
however,  to  have  only  pleasantly  vague  views  on  the 
.subject  of  the  time  of  his  probable  return  to 
America. 

"  There  is  no  actual  necessity  for  it,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
find  the  life  here  delightful.  Bertha  and  the  children 
will  probably  join  me  in  the  spring,  and  we  may  ramble 
about  for  a  year  or  so."  And  he  evidently  felt  he  had 
no  reason  to  doubt  the  truth  of  this  latter  statement. 
Bertha  had  been  present  at  her  friend's  marriage.  She 
had  been  with  her  almost  constantly  during  the  last 
days  preceding  it.  She  found  great  pleasure  in 
Agnes'  happiness.  There  had  been  no  change  in 
her  own  mode  of  life.  Janey  and  Jack  went  out 
with  her  often,  and  when  she  was  at  home  spent 
the  greater  part  of  the  time  with  her.  She  helped 
them  with  their  lessons,  played  with  them,  and  made  a 
hundred  plans  for  them.  They  found  her  more  enter- 
taining than  ever.  Others  found  her  no  less  entertaining. 
The  old  bright  circle  closed  about  her  as  before,  and 
was  even  added  to.  Mr.  Amory  had  been  called  abroad 
by  business,  ancfr  might  return  at  any  moment.  The 
professor  was  rarely  absent  from  his  daughter's  parlors 
when  she  had  her  guests  about  her.  The  people  who 
had  been  interested  in  the  Westoria  scheme  disappeared 
or  became  interested  in  something  else.  Senator  Plane- 
field  had  made  one  call  after  Richard's  departure,  and 
then  had  called  no  more.  Bertha  had  seen  him  alone 
for  a  short  time,  and  before  he  took  his  leave,  looking  a 


554  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

trifle  more  florid  than  usual,  he  had  thrown  into  the 
grate  a  bouquet  of  hothouse  roses. 

"Damn  all  this  !  "  he  cried,  savagely.  "  What  a  fail- 
ure it  has  been  !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Bertha ;  "  it  has  been  a  great  failure." 

Senator  Blundel  did  not  disappear.  He  began  to  like 
the  house  again,  and  to  miss  his  occasional  evening  there 
if  anything  deprived  him  of  it.  He  used  to  come  and 
talk  politics  with  the  professor,  and  hear  Bertha  sing 
his  favorite  ballads  of  sentiment.  During  the  excite- 
ment preceding  the  presidential  election  the  professor 
found  him  absorbingly  interesting.  The  contest  was  a 
close  and  heated  one,  and  the  usual  national  disasters 
were  prophesied  as  the  inevitable  results  of  the  final 
election  of  either  candidate.  Bertha  read  her  way  in- 
dustriously through  the  campaign,  and  joined  in  their 
arguments  with  a  spirit  which  gave  Blundel  keen  de- 
light. She  read  a  great  deal  to  her  father,  and  made 
herself  his  companion,  finding  that  she  was  able  to  help 
him  with  his  work. 

''  I  find  great  comfort  in  you,  my  child,"  he  said 
gently  to  her  once,  when  she  had  been  reading. 

"Do  you,  dearest?"  she  answered,  and  she  went  to 
him,  and,  standing  near  him,  touched  his  gray  hair  with 
her  cheek.  "  I  find  great  comfort  in  you,"  she  said,  in 
a  low  voice.  "  We  seem  to  belong  to  each  other  as  if 
—  a  little  as  if  we  had  been  left  together  on  a  desert 
island." 

When  she  went  away  for  the  summer  with  her  chil- 
dren the  professor  went  with  her.  He  had  never  won- 
dered at  and  pondered  over  her  as  he  clid  in  these  days. 
Her  incomings  and  outgoings  were  as  they  had  always 
been.  She  shared  the  summer  gayeties  and  went  her 
way  with  her  world,  but  it  was  but  a  short  time  before 
the  kind  old  eyes  looking  on  detected  in  her  the  lack 
of  all  that  had  made  her  what  she  had  been  in  the  past. 
They  returned  to  Washington  the  day  after  the  election 
of  the  new  President.  Their  first  evening  at  home  was 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  555 

apent  in  reading  the  newspapers  and  discussing  the  ter- 
mination of  the  campaign. 

When  Bertha  rose  to  go  to  her  room  she  stood  a  mo- 
ment looking  at  the  fire,  and  there  was  something  in  her 
face  which  attracted  the  professor's  attention. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  what  you  are  thinking 

She  lifted  her  eyes  and  made  an  effort  to  smile,  but 
the  smile  died  out  and  left  her  face  blank  and  cold. 

"  I  am  thinking  of  the  last  inaugural  ball,"  she  said, 
"  and  of  Larry  —  and  Richard  —  and  of  how  I  danced 
and  laughed  —  and  laughed  —  and  that  I  shall  never 
laugh  so  again." 

"Bertha,"  he  said,  "my  child  ! " 

"No,"  she  said,  "never,  never,  —  and  I  did  not  mean 
to  speak  of  it  —  only  just  for  a  moment  it  all  came 
back  ;"  and  she  went  quickly  away  without  finishing. 

AFTER  the  election  there  came  the  usual  temporary 
lull,  and  the  country  settled  itself  down  to  the  peaceful 
avocation  of  reading  stories  of  the  new  President's 
childhood,  and  accounts  of  his  daily  receptions  of  inter- 
ested friends  and  advisers.  The  only  reports  of  excite- 
ment came  from  the  Indian  country,  where  little  dis- 
turbances were  occurring  which  caused  anxiety  among 
agents  and  frontiersmen.  Certain  tribes  were  dissatis- 
ned  with  the  arrangements  made  for  them  by  the 
government,  quarrels  had  taken  place,  and  it  had 
become  necessary  to  keep  a  strict  watch  upon  the  move- 
ments of  turbulent  tribes.  This  state  of  affairs  con- 
tinued throughout  the  winter;  the  threatened  out- 
break was  an  inestimable  boon  to  the  newspapers,  but, 
in  spite  of  the  continued  threatenings,  the  winter  was 
tided  over  without  any  actual  catastrophies. 

"  But  we  shall  have  it,"  Colonel  Tredenuis  said  to  hig 
fellow-officers  ;  "  I  think  we  cannot  escape  it." 

He  had  been  anxious  for  some  time,  and  his  anxiety 
increased  as  the  weeks  went  by.  It  was  two  days  b* 


556  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

fore  the  inaugural  ceremonies  that  the  blow  fell.  Th« 
colonel  had  gone  to  his  quarters  rather  early.  A  batch 
of  newspapers  had  come  in  with  the  eastern  mail,  and 
he  intended  to  spend  his  evening  in  reading  them. 
Among  these  there  were  Washington  papers,  which 
contained  descriptions  of  the  preparations  made  for  the 
ceremonies,  —  of  the  triumphal  arches  and  processions, 
of  the  stands  erected  on  the  avenue,  of  the  seats  before 
the  public  buildings,  of  the  arrangements  for  the  ball. 
He  remembered  the  belated  flags  and  pennants  of  four 
years  before,  the  strollers  in  the  streets,  his  own  feel- 
ings as  he  had  driven  past  the  decorations,  and  at  last 
his  words  : 

"  I  came  in  with  the  Administration ;  I  wonder  if  1 
shall  go  out  with  it,  and  what  will  have  happened  be- 
tween now  and  then." 

He  laid  his  paper  down  with  a  heavy  sigh,  even 
though  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Miss  Jessup's  letter 
un  the  first  sheet.  He  could  not  read  any  more ;  he 
had  had  enough.  The  bitter  loneliness  of  the  moment 
overpowered  him,  and  he  bowed  his  face  upon  his  arms, 
leaning  upon  the  pile  of  papers  and  letters  on  the  table. 
He  had  made,  even  mentally,  no  complaint  in  the  last 
month.  His  hair  had  grown  grizzled  and  his  youth  had 
left  him ;  only  happiness  could  have  brought  it  back, 
and  happiness  was  not  for  him.  Every  hour  of  his 
life  was  filled  with  yearning  sadness  for  the  suffering 
another  than  himself  might  be  bearing;  sometimes  it 
became  intolerable  anguish ;  it  was  so  to-night. 

"  I  have  no  part  to  play,"  he  thought ;  "  every  one  is 
used  to  my  grim  face  ;  but  she  —  poor  child  !  —  poor 
child  !  —  they  will  not  let  her  rest.  She  has  worn  her 
smile  too  well." 

Once,  during  the  first  winter  of  his  stay  in  Washing- 
ton, he  had  found  among  a  number  of  others  a  little 
picture  of  herself,  and  had  asked  her  for  it.  It  was  » 
poor  little  thing,  evidently  lightly  valued ;  but  he  had 
often  recalled  her  look  and  words  as  she  gave  if  to  him, 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  55? 

"Nobody  ever  wanted  it  before,"  she  had  said. 
"  They  say  it  is  too  sad  to  be  like  me.  I  do  not  mind 
that  so  much,  I  think.  I  had  rather  a  fancy  for  it. 
Yes,  you  may  have  it,  if  you  wish.  I  have  been  gay 
so  long  —  let  me  be  sad  for  a  little  while,  if  it  ia  only 
in  a  picture." 

He  had  carried  it  with  him  ever  since.  He  had  no 
other  relic  of  her.  He  took  it  from  his  breast-pocket 
now,  and  looked  at  it  with  aching  eyes. 

"  So  long  I "  he  said.  "  So  long !  "  And  then  again, 
w  Poor  child  1  poor  child  ! " 

The  next  instant  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  There  was  a 
sound  of  hurried  feet,  a  loud  knocking  at  his  door, 
which  was  thrown  open  violently.  One  of  his  fellow- 
officers  stood  before  him,  pale  with  excitement. 

"  Tredennis,"  he  said,  "the  Indians  have  attacked  the 
next  settlement.  The  devils  have  gone  mad.  You  are 
wanted  "  — 

Tredennis  did  not  speak.  He  gave  one  glance  round 
the  room,  with  its  blazing  fire  and  lonely,  soldierly 
look ;  then  he  put  the  little  picture  into  his  pocket  and 
went  out  into  the  nig ht. 


558  THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION. 


CHAPTER  XLH. 

IN  all  her  honest,  hard-worked  little  life  Miss  Jessup 
had  never  done  more  honest,  hard  work  than  she  waa 
called  upon  to  do  on  the  day  of  the  inauguration.  She 
had  written  into  the  small  hours  the  night  before ;  she 
had  described  bunting  and  arches,  evergreens  and  grand 
stands,  the  visiting  regiments,  club  uniforms,  bands, 
banners,  torch-lights  and  speeches,  and  on  the  eventful 
day  she  was  up  with  the  dawn ,  arranging  in  the  most 
practicable  manner  her  plans  for  the  day.  With  letters 
containing  a  full  and  dramatic  description  of  the  cere- 
monies to  be  written  to  four  western  papers,  and  with 
extra  work  upon  the  Washington  weekly  and  daily, 
there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  Miss  Jessup  lost  none. 
Each  hour  of  the  day  was  portioned  off — eafch  minute, 
almost.  Now  she  was  to  take  a  glance  at  the  procession 
from  the  steps  of  the  Treasury ;  now  she  was  to  spend 
a  few  moments  in  a  balcony  overlooking  another  point ; 
she  was  to  see  the  oath  administered,  hear  the  Presi- 
dent's address  and  form  an  estimate  of  his  appreciation 
of  the  solemnity  of  the  moment ;  she  was  to  take  his 
temperature  during  the  afternoon,  and  be  ready  to  greet 
him  at  the  ball,  and  describe  dresses,  uniforms,  decora- 
tions, flags,  and  evergreens  again.  Even  as  she  took 
her  hasty  breakfast  she  was  jotting  down  appropriate 
items,  and  had  already  begun  an  article,  opening  with 
the  sentence,  "Rarely  has  Washington  witnessed  a  more 
brilliant  spectacle,"  etc. 

It  could  scarcely  be  said  that  she  missed  anything 
when  she  went  her  rounds  later.  No  familiar  face 
escaped  her;  she  recognized  people  at  windows,  in 


THROUGH   ONE   ADMINISTRATION.  558 

carriages,  on  platforms.  Among  others  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Mrs.  Amory,  who  drove  by  on  her  waj'  to 
the  Capitol  with  her  father  and  Jack  and  Janey. 

'"  She  looks  a  little  tired  about  the  eyes,"  thought 
Miss  Jessup.  "She  has  looked  a  little  that  way  all 
the  season,  though  she  keeps  going  steadily  enough, 
They  work  as  hard  as  the  rest  of  us,  in  their  way,  these 
society  women.  She  will  be  at  the  ball  to-night,  I 
dare  say." 

Bertha  herself  had  wondered  if  she  would>find  herself 
there.  Even  as  she  drove  past  Miss  Jessup,  she  wa^ 
thinking  that  it  seemed  almost  impossible ;  but  she  had 
thought  things  impossible  often  during  the  winter  which 
had  gone  by,  and  had  found  them  come  to  pass  and  leave 
her  almost  as  before.  Gradually,  however,  people  had 
begun  to  miss  something  in  her.  There  was  no  deny- 
ing, they  said,  that  she  had  lost  some  of  her  vivacity 
and  spirit ;  some  tone  had  gone  from  her  voice  ;  some- 
thing of  color  from  her  manner.  Perhaps  she  would  get 
over  it.  Amory  had  not  behaved  well  in  the  Westoria 
land  affair,  and  she  naturally  felt  his  absence  and  the 
shadow  under  which  he  rested. 

"Very  gradually,"  she  said  to  the  professor  once, 
"I  think  I  am  retiring  from  the  world.  I  never  was 
really  very  clever  or  pretty.  I  don't  hide  it  so  well 
as  I  used  to,  and  people  are  finding  me  out.  Often 
I  am  a  little  dull,  and  it  is  not  likely  they  will  forgive 
me  that." 

But  she  was  not  dull  at  home,  or  the  professor  nevei 
thought  so.  She  was  not  dull  now,  as  she  pointed  oui 
objects  of  interest  to  Jack  and  Janey. 

"I  wish  Uncle  Philip  were  here  I"  cried  Jack.  w  He 
would  have  his  sword  on  and  be  in  uniform,  and  he 
would  look  taller  than  all  the  rest,  —  taller  than  the 
President." 

The  day  was  very  brilliant  to  the  children ;  they  were 
as  indefatigable  as  Miss  Jessup,  and  missed  as  little  as 
if  they  had  been  in  sear>h  of  items.  The  blare  of 


560  THROUGH    ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

brazen  instruments,  the  tramp  of  soldiers,  the  rattle  of 
arms,  the  rushing  crowds,  the  noise  and  color  and  ex- 
citement, filled  them  with  rapture.  When  they  finally 
reached  home  they  were  worn  out  with  their  delights. 
Bertha  was  not  less  fatigued ;  but,  after  the  nursery  was 
quiet  and  the  children  were  asleep,  she  came  down  to 
dine  with  the  professor. 

"  And  we  will  go  to  the  ball  for  an  hour,"  she  said. 
"  We  cannot  submit  to  having  it  described  to  us  for  the 
next  two  weeks  by  people  who  were  there." 

The  truth  was  that  she  could  not  sit  at  home  and  listen 
to  the  carriages  rolling  by,  and  watch  the  dragging 
hours  with  such  memories  as  must  fill  them. 

So  at  half-past  ten  she  stood  in  her  room,  putting 
the  last  touches  to  her  toilet,  and  shortly  afterward  she 
was  driving  with  the  professor  toward  the  scene  of  the 
night's  gayeties.  She  had  seen  the  same  scene  on  each 
like  occasion  since  her  eighteenth  year.  There  was 
nothing  new  about  it  to-night ;  there  was  some  change 
in  dances  and  music,  but  the  same  types  of  people 
crowded  against  each  other,  looking  on  at  the  dancing, 
pointing  out  the  President,  asking  the  old  questions, 
and  making  the  old  comments ;  young  people  whirled 
together  in  the  centre  of  the  ballroom,  and  older  ones 
watched  them,  with  some  slight  wonder  at  the  inter- 
est they  evinced  in  the  exercise.  Bertha  danced  only 
a  few  quadrilles.  As  she  went  through  them  she 
felt  again  what  she  had  felt  on  each  such  occasion 
since  the  night  of  the  ball  of  the  last  year,  —  the 
music  seemed  too  loud,  the  people  too  vivacious,  the 
gayety  about  her  too  tumultuous ;  though,  judged  by 
ordinary  standards,  there  could  have  been  no  com- 
plaint against  it. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  feeling,  she  lingered  longer 
than  she  had  intended,  trying  to  hide  from  herself  her 
dread  of  returning  home.  No  one  but  herself  knew  — • 
even  the  professor  did  not  suspect — how  empty  the  house 
seemed  to  her,  and  how  its  loneliness  grew  and  gre\» 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION.  561 

until  sometimes  it  overpowered  her  and  became  a  sort  of 
deadly  presence.  Richard's  empty  rooms  were  a  terror 
to  her ;  she  never  passed  their  closed  doors  without  a 
shock. 

At  half-past  twelve,  however,  she  decided  to  go 
home.  She  had  just  ended  a  dance  with  a  young 
attache  of  one  of  the  legations ;  he  was  a  brilliantly 
hued  and  graceful  young  butterfly,  and  danced  and 
talked  well.  There  had  been  a  time  when  she  had 
liked  to  hear  his  sharp,  slightly  satirical  nonsense,  and 
had  enjoyed  a  dance  with  him.  She  had  listened  to- 
night, and  had  used  her  pretty  smile  at  opportune 
moments ;  but  she  was  glad  to  sit  down  again. 

"  Now,"  she  said  to  him,  "will  you  be  so  good  as  to 
find  my  father  for  me,  and  tell  him  I  will  go  home?  " 

"I  will,  if  I  must,"  he  answered.  "But  other- 
wise "  — 

"  You  will  if  you  are  amiable,"  she  said.  "  I  blush 
to  own  that  I  am  tired.  I  have  assisted  in  the  in- 
augural ceremonies  without  flinching  from  their  first 
step  until  their  last,  and  I  begin  to  feel  that  His  Ex- 
cellency is  safe  and  I  may  retire." 

He  found  her  a  quiet  corner  and  went  to  do  her 
bidding.  She  was  partly  shielded  by  some  tall  plants, 
and  was  glad  of  the  retreat  they  afforded  her.  She  sat 
and  let  her  eyes  rest  upon  the  moving  crowd  promenad- 
ing the  room  between  the  dances  ;  the  music  had  ceased, 
and  she  could  catch  snatches  of  conversation  as  people 
passed  her.  Among  the  rest  were  a  pretty,  sparkling- 
eyed  girl  and  a  young  army  officer  who  attracted  her. 
She  watched  them  on  their  way  round  the  circle  twice, 
and  they  were  just  nearing  her  for  the  second  time 
when  her  attention  was  drawn  from  them  by  the  sound 
of  voices  near  her. 

"Indian  outbreak,"  she  heard.  "Tredennis!  News 
just  came  in." 

She  rose  from  her  seat.  The  speakers  were  on  the 
other  side  of  the  plants.  One  of  them  was  little  Mia* 


562  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

Jessup,  the  other  a  stranger,  and  Miss  Jessup  was  pai* 
with  agitati  >n  and  professional  interest,  and  her  note- 
book trembled  in  her  little,  bird-like  hand. 

"  Colonel  Tredennis  !  "  she  said.  "  Oh !  I  know  him, 
I  liked  him  —  every  one  did  —  every  one  !  What  are 
the  particulars?  Are  they  really  authenticated ?  Oh, 
what  a  terrible  thing !  " 

"  We  know  very  few  particulars,"  was  the  answer ; 
"  but  those  we  know  are  only  too  well  authenticated. 
We  shall  hear  more  later.  The  Indians  attacked  a 
small  settlement,  and  a  party  went  from  the  fort  to 
the  rescue.  Colonel  Tredennis  commanded  it.  The 
Indians  were  apparently  beaten  off,  but  returned. 
A  little  child  had  been  left  in  the  house,  through 
some  misunderstanding,  and  Tredennis  heard  it  cry- 
ing as  the  Indians  made  their  second  attack,  and 
went  after  it.  He  was  shot  as  he  brought  it  out  in 
his  arms." 

Little  Miss  Jessup  burst  into  tears  and  dropped  her 
note-book. 

"  Oh  !  "  she  cried.  "  He  was  a  good,  brave  man  ! 
He  was  a  good  man  ! " 

The  band  struck  up  a  waltz.  The  promenading 
stopped ;  a  score  or  two  of  couples  took  their  place 
upon  the  floor,  and  began  to  whirl  swiftly  past  the  spot 
where  Bertha  stood ;  the  music  seemed  to  grow  faster 
and  faster,  and  louder,  and  still  more  loud. 

Bertha  stood  still. 

She  had  not  moved  when  the  professor  came  to  her. 
He  himself  wore  a  sad,  grief-stricken  face  ;  he  had  heard 
the  news  too ;  it  had  not  taken  it  long  to  travel  around 
the  room. 

"  Take  me  home,"  she  said  to  him.  "  Philip  is  dead  I 
Philip  has  been  killed  ! " 

He  took  her  away  as  quickly  as  he  could  through 
the  whirling  crowd  of  dancers,  past  the  people  who 
crowded,  and  laughed,  and  listened  to  the  music  of 
the  band. 


THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION .  563 

"  Keep  close  to  me  I "  she  said.  "  Do  not  let  them 
see  my  face  !  " 

When  they  were  shut  up  in  the  carriage  together  she 
sat  shuddering  for  a  moment,  he  shuddering,  also,  at 
the  sight  of  the  face  he  had  hidden;  then  she  trembled 
into  his  arms,  clung  to  his  shoulder,  cowered  down  and 
hid  herself  upon  his  knee,  slipped  down  kneeling  upon 
the  floor  of  the  carriage,  and  clung  to  him  with  both  her 
arms. 

"  I  never  told  you  that  I  was  a  wicked  woman,"  she 
said.  "I  will  tell  ^you  now;  always  —  always  I  have 
tried  to  hide  that  it  was  Philip  —  Philip  !  " — 

"  Poor  child  !  "  he  said.  "  Poor,  unhappy  —  most 
unhappy  child  !  "  All  the  strength  of  her  body  seemed 
to  have  gone  into  the  wild  clasp  of  her  slender  arms. 

"1  have  suffered,"  she  said.  "I  have  been  broken  ; 
I  have  been  crushed.  I  knew  that  I  should  never  see 
him  again,  but  he  was  alive.  Do  you  think  that  I  shall 
some  day  have  been  punished  enough  ?  " 

He  clasped  her  close  to  his  breast,  and  laid  his  gray 
head  upon  her  brown  one,  shedding  bitter  tears. 

"  We  do  not  know  that  this  is  punishment,"  he  said. 

"No,"  she  answered.  "We  do  not  know.  Take  me 
home  to  my  little  children.  Let  me  stay  with  them.  I 
will  try  to  be  a  good  mother  —  I  will  try "  — 

She  lay  in  his  arms  until  the  carriage  stopped.  Then 
they  got  out  and  went  into  the  house.  *  When  they 
closed  the  door  behind  them,  and  stood  in  the  hall  to- 
gether, the  deadly  silence  smote  them  both.  They  did 
not  speak  to  each  other.  The  professor  supported  her 
with  his  arm  as  they  went  slowly  up  the  stairs.  He  had 
extinguished  the  light  below  before  they  came  up. 
A 11  the  house  seemed  dark  but  for  a  glow  of  fire-light 
coming  through  an  open  door  on  the  first  landing. 
It  was  the  door  Philip  Tredennis  had  seen  open  the 
first  night  when  he  h&d  looked  in  and  had  seen 
Bertha  sitting  in  her  nursery-chair  with  her  child  c« 
her  breast. 


564  THROUGH   ONE    ADMINISTRATION. 

There  they  both  stopped.  Before  the  professor's  eyes 
there  rose,  with  strange  and  terrible  clearness,  the  vis- 
ion of  a  girl's  bright  face  looking  backward  at  him  from 
the  night,  the  light  streaming  upon  it  as  it  smiled  above 
a  cluster  of  white  roses.  And  it  was  this  that  remained 
before  him  when,  a  moment  afterward,  Bertha  wenl 
ID  to  the  room  and  closed  the  door. 


THE    END. 


THE  NOVELS  AND  STORIES  OF 

Frances   Hodgson   Burnett 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  PUBLISHERS 


"  We  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  there  is  no 
living  writer  (man  or  woman)  who  has  Mrs.  Burnett 's 
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CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

597-599  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK 


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14  DAY  USE 

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LD21A-60m-6,'69 
(J9096slO)476-A-32 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


r 


,  t 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


